Fair DESDEMONA, daughter of Venetian senator BRABANTIO, hath skipped past the left-back and advanceth goalward.
Yet even as she approacheth the angle of the box, IAGO doth bring down DESDEMONA with a crude, two-footed lunge.
"Verily," cries IAGO, "I barely happened to nudge the lily-livered strumpet!"
Thou art unsure whether this venomous act of knavery occurred within the box, and thy assistant referee declaims that he was sore unsighted.
What shalt thou do?
a) Award a penalty unto the attacking team, and send forth IAGO unto an early bath?
b) Award a free-kick upon the box-edge, and issue IAGO a fulsome admonishment?
c) Smother the fair DESDEMONA, assail IAGO with thy blade and then slay thyself by thine own hand?
2. Much Ado About A Fair Challenge
OPHELIA and ROSENCRANTZ doth contest a fifty-fifty ball within the central circle. OPHELIA winneth the ball, leaving ROSENCRANTZ with an ugly gash upon his foreleg.
ROSENCRANTZ assails thee, crying "Thou art a dull, sheep-biting punion, sire! Thou needest glasses, thou blind bastard - may the worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul, thou mountain of mad flesh!"
In the meantime, play hath continued and lo! OPHELIA hast been bodychecked by HORATIO. A vexatious melee doth ensue.
What shalt thou do?a) Inscribe the name of the whoreson mandrake ROSENCRANTZ in thine notebook, and adjudge the dropping of the ball?
b) Allow the play to continue anon, and issue ROSENCRANTZ a stern rebuke upon the exit of the ball from the field?
c) Send forth OPHELIA unto a nunnery, therein to be as chaste as ice, as pure as snow?
3. The Three Gentlemen of Midfield
While thine sight is distracted, thou doth hear a calamitous uproar from behind, and, turning, presently discover that MERCUTIO, kinsman of PRINCE ESCALUS, hath been struck an injurious blow and now bleedeth in sanguineous torrents.
Since it is plain that MERCUTIO hath not so wounded himself, the only possible culprits are TYBALT, cousin of JULIET, and ROMEO of the house of Montague. Thy assistant referee was, alas and alack, unsighted.
"Marry, I never touched the nondy fucker, sire!" quoth TYBALT.
"A plague on both your houses, thou dirty, hacking bastards!" cries MERCUTIO.
What shalt thou do?
a) Bring play to a most untimely halt, and allow the physick to attend the effuse of blood?
b) Send TYBALT unto the dressing room like a common dog, therein to ruminate upon his dastardly action?
c) Slay TYBALT, and flee unto exile?
Ye shalt find the answers in comments.