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I heard no letter from my master sinceI wrote him ___character 1___ was slain: 'tis strange:Nor hear I from my mistress who did promiseTo yield me often tidings: neither know IWhat is betid to __character 2____; but remainPerplex'd in all. The heavens still must work.Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true.These present wars shall find I love my country,Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them.All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd:Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. |
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Character 1, thou that stand'st so for Character 2! He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her, Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown To her desired Character 2 : gone she is To death or to dishonour; and my end Can make good use of either: she being down, I have the placing of the British crown. |
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Cymbeline The Queen To Pisanio Character 1=Pisanio Character 2=Posthumus |
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I am down again; But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe: but your ring first; and here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith |
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Cymbeline Jachimo to Posthumus |
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I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal,And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisiteThan lady, ladies, woman; from every oneThe best she hath, and she, of all compounded,Outsells them all; I love her therefore: butDisdaining me and throwing favours onThe low Posthumus slanders so her judgmentThat what's else rare is choked; and in that pointI will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed,To be revenged upon her. |
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Cymbeline Cloten about Imogen |
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I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather—saving reverence of the word—for 'tis said a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself—for it is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber—I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions: |
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Yet this imperceiverantthing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her father; who may haply be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not deceive me. |
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All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten, Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio Hath with his forged letters,—damn'd Pisanio— From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas, Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! where's that?Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio? 'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! The drug he gave me, which he said was precious And cordial to me, have I not found it Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home: This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O! Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, That we the horrider may seem to those 2735Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord! |
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Definition
Cymbeline Imogen on seeing "Posthumus'" dead body |
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