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Enter Imogen, in Boy's Clothes. Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one: I have tir'd myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me.- Milford, When from the mountain-top Pisapio show'd thee, Thou was't within a ken: 0 Jove! I think, Foundations fly the wretched : such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me, I could not miss my way: Will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis A punisbment, or trial? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness Is sorer, than to lie for need ; and falsehood Is worse in kings, than beggars.—My dear lord ! Thou art one o' the false ones: Now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink for food.—But what is this? Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold: I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine, Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever Of hardiness is mother,
A WIFE'S INNOCENCY. False to his bed! What is it, to be false ? To lie in watch there, and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge naTo break it with a fearful dream of him, Tture, And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed?
No, tis slander; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world: kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This vip'rous slander enters.
HARMLESS INNOCENCE. Imo. Good masters, harm me not: Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thougbt To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: Good troth,
Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; Which is the way? I thank you.-By yon bush?- Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pitikins*!- can it be six miles yet? I have gone all night:'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. But, soft! no bedfellow :-0, gods and goddesses!
[Seeing the Body, These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't.-I hope, I dream; For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so; "Twas but a boltt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes, Are sometimes like our judgments, blind, Good faith, I tremble still with fear : But if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. A headless man! The garments of Posthumus! I know the shape of his leg: this is his hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
O Posthumus! alas, where's that?
Being scarce made up,
O thou goddess,
Look, here he comes,
The bird is dead,
O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well, As when thou grew'st thyself.
0, melancholy! . Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare* Might easiliest harbour in ?-Thou blessed thing! Jove knows what man thou 'might'st have made ;
but I, Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy!How found you him? - Arv.
Stark t, as you see: Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek Reposing on a cushion. Gui.
. Why, he but sleeps:
With fairest flowers,
Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys: * A slow-sailing, unwieldy vessel. + Stiff. # Shoes plated with iron.