Monday, February 15, 2016

Post 2.15.2016.10

Posthumus:  To-day how many would have given their honours
To have sav'd their carcases!  took heel to do 't,
And yet died too!  I, in mine own woe charm'd,
Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster,
'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives i' the war.

Act V, Scene iii

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