Two households, not alike in dignity,
The fediverse, is where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil bits make civil hands unclean.
From forth the brooding loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers go offline;
Whose misadventur’d piteous overthrows
Doth with their absence bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their [removed] love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the twelve hours’ traffic of our post;
The which if you with patient eyes attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.