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Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616

"Cymbeline"

What? How? how?
Arui. If it be sinne to say so (Sir) I yoake mee
In my good Brothers fault: I know not why
I loue this youth, and I haue heard you say,
Loue's reason's, without reason. The Beere at doore,
And a demand who is't shall dye, I'ld say
My Father, not this youth
Bel. Oh noble straine!
O worthinesse of Nature, breed of Greatnesse!
``Cowards father Cowards, & Base things Syre Bace;
``Nature hath Meale, and Bran; Contempt, and Grace.
I'me not their Father, yet who this should bee,
Doth myracle it selfe, lou'd before mee.
'Tis the ninth houre o'th' Morne
Arui. Brother, farewell
Imo. I wish ye sport
Arui. You health. - So please you Sir
Imo. These are kinde Creatures.
Gods, what lyes I haue heard:
Our Courtiers say, all's sauage, but at Court;
Experience, oh thou disproou'st Report.
Th' emperious Seas breeds Monsters; for the Dish,
Poore Tributary Riuers, as sweet Fish:
I am sicke still, heart-sicke; Pisanio,
Ile now taste of thy Drugge
Gui. I could not stirre him:
He said he was gentle, but vnfortunate;
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest
Arui. Thus did he answer me: yet said heereafter,
I might know more
Bel. To'th' Field, to'th' Field:
Wee'l leaue you for this time, go in, and rest
Arui. Wee'l not be long away
Bel. Pray be not sicke,
For you must be our Huswife
Imo. Well, or ill,
I am bound to you.
Enter.
Bel. And shal't be euer.


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