He wrote, and it was good.--which is why you go back and rewrite, and why it is unlikely that poor, dumb Shakespeare had forgotten that Michael Cassio had no wife.
He read, and it was vile--
BERTRAM | ||
It may be you have mistaken him, my lord.
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LAFEW | ||
And shall do so ever, though I took him at's prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me: there can be no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes; trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures. (to Parolles:) Farewell, monsieur; I have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. (Exit.) |
at's prayers = at his prayers | |
PAROLLES | ||
An idle lord, I swear. |
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BERTRAM | (Bertram sees Helena approaching) |
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I think so. |
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PAROLLES | ||
Why, do you not know him? |
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BERTRAM | ||
Yes, I know him well, and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. |
DIANA | ||
I see that men make rope's in such a scarre That we'll forsake ourselves. |
DIANA | ||
I see that men may rope's in such a snare That we'll forsake ourselves. |
DIANA | ||
I see that men make rope's in such a scarre That we'll forsake ourselves. |