Photograph by Diego Meozzi

Hotspur: Look there, York! Cast thine eyes upon the fair Plain of Salis- bury! It hath always had great truck with me. York: [aside] Methinks he doth propose a queer sense of trucking! Sirah, best get thyself to a nunnery!  [to Hotspur] My Lord, it doth present a truckly aspect. Hotspur:  Mark the scene well, York. Some awful                    invention haunts yonder celestial engine.

                                                                                               York:
                                                                           [aside] Truck and more                                                                           truck! When will this                                                                           metaphor end?
                                                                                                                     

Hotspur: What, ho! How now! a rat! This be no Plain of Salis- bury! And that no Stonehenge! [rubbing his eyes] What mischievous sprite hath cast a spell on us? Our emerald isle is no more! York:   Nay, nay, my lord! The heavens are yet the heavens! Thy sight hath been tricked to another apparition, yet Stonehenge doth still stand before us! Hotspur: Canst thou cipher this weird land? O, I                  am bereft of dis- course! My words are as brittle as yonder meadow and                  will not bundle.They                    will have no truck with this carrioned place. York: [aside] A pox on the word 'truck'!  [to Hotspur] Say no more,             my lord! Methinks crusaders have spoken             of the Holy Land as such a scorched locality and --

                                                                                                    Hotspur: