Sunday, November 23, 2014

Post 11.23.2014.2

Antony:  What, girl!  though grey
Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha'
   we
A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth.  Behold this man;
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand:
Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day
As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
Destroy'd in such a shape.

Act IV, Scene 8

No comments:

Post a Comment