Monday, February 15, 2016

Post 2.15.2016.11

Posthumus:  Poor wretches, that depend
On greatness' favour dream as I have done;
Wake, and find nothing.  But, alas!  I swerve:
Many dream not to find, neither deserve,
And yet are steep'd in favours; so am I,
That have this golden chance and know not why.

Act V, Scene iv

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