Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, / Who never to himself hath said, / This is my own, my native land! […] The wretch, concentred all in self, / Living, shall forfeit fair renown, / And, doubly dying, shall go down / To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, / Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.

The roosters would look awesome, their beaks fearsome weapons. A frightening thought. As it is, each rooster needed to be tethered to his own hut to keep them from pecking each other's eyes out.

Beseemes it thee to contradict thy king? […] I will haue Gaueston, and you shall know, What danger tis to stand against your king.

This wave of claims about fan entitlement and consumer attempts to reshape the decisions of creators and studios demands a revisiting of the fantagonism concept.