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Okay, just came up with this!
I realize it isn't exactly Shakespeare, so if it offends your ear for poetry, please, blame the Management, not your lowly laborer-over-limericks! *ducking behind the table just in case*
There once was a man of Whitechapel
Who felt that most women were cattle.
So he got out his knife,
Blew a kiss to his wife,
And the streets were soon cleared of the rabble.
An humble offering by your very own
Mrs. Fiddymont *dodging rocks and ignoring the boos and hisses*
There once was a man of Whitechapel
Who felt that most women were cattle.
So he got out his knife,
Blew a kiss to his wife,
And the streets were soon cleared of the rabble.
An humble offering by your very own
Mrs. Fiddymont *dodging rocks and ignoring the boos and hisses*
I do admire your creative spirit. 
"What our ancestors would really be thinking, if they were alive today, is: "Why is it so dark in here?"" From Pyramids by Sir Terry Pratchett, a British National Treasure. 
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