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Nature In You Stands On The Very Verge Of Her Confine.
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Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear
-- Act ii, Sc. 4
Related:
Necessity's sharp pinch! -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act ii, Sc. 4
Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow, Thy element 's below.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act ii, Sc. 4...
Let not women's weapons, water-drops, Stain my man's cheeks!
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act ii, Sc. 4...
I 'll talk a word with this same learned Theban. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act iii, Sc.
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Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend! -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act i, Sc.
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Oh, that way madness lies; let me shun that. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act iii, Sc.
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Out-paramoured the Turk. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act iii, Sc. 4
Poor Tom 's a-cold. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act iii, Sc. 4
Striving to better, oft we mar what 's well. -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act i, Sc.
4...