bryson9604
bryson9604
27.02.2020 • 
English

"O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his whole conceit That from her-working all his visage wann'd; Terars in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit

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