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His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazed to it. For by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night, By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist and cease to be—.
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His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have sooften blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazedto it.
For by the sacred radiance of the sun,The mysteries of Hecate and the night,By all the operation of the orbsFrom whom we do exist and cease to be—
The jewels of our father, with washed eyesCordelia leaves you. I know you what you are,
Thou, nature, art my goddess. To thy lawMy services are bound.
Sir, I do love you more than words can wield the matter,Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty,
I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being soproper.
What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of it intoyour pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need tohide itself. Let’s see.—Come, if it be nothing, I shall notneed spectacles.
These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good tous.
Idle old manThat still would manage those authoritiesThat he hath given away!
Truth’s a dog that must to kennel. He must be whipped out,when Lady Brach may stand by th' fire and stink.
Thou better know’stThe offices of nature, bond of childhood,Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude
My tears begin to take his part so much,They’ll mar my counterfeiting.
Because I would not see thy cruèl nailsPluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sisterIn his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.The sea, with such a storm as his bare headIn hell-black night endured, would have buoyed up,And quenched the stellèd fires.Yet poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
If you miscarry,Your business of the world hath so an end,And machination ceases. Fortune love you.
Have I caught thee?He that parts us shall bring a brand from heavenAnd fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes.