tomasino's

Updated: May 2, 2025

These were the palmy days of the stage, when blank verse flourished, and every serious play had to begin like this: Scene. A place without. Rinaldo discovered dying. Enter Marco. Mar. What ho, Rinaldo! Lo, the horned moon Dims the cold radiance of the westering stars, Pale sentinels of the approaching dawn. How now, Rinaldo? Rin. Marco, I am dying, Struck down by Tomasino's treacherous hand. Mar.

A. A. (Alan Alexander) Milne - If I May