| Cloten |
I am near to the place where they should
meet, if |
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Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments |
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serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by |
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him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the |
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rather--saving reverence of the word--for 'tis said |
5 |
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a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must |
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play the workman. I dare speak it to myself--for it |
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is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer |
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in his own chamber--I mean, the lines of my body are |
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as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, |
10 |
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not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the |
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advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike |
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conversant in general services, and more remarkable |
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in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant |
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thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! |
15 |
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Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy |
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shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy |
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mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before |
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thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her |
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father; who may haply be a little angry for my so |
20 |
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rough usage; but my mother, having power of his |
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testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My |
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horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore |
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purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is |
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the very description of their meeting-place; and |
25 |
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the fellow dares not deceive me. |
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