1 You are now within a foot of th'extreme verge.
2 Now, now, now, now: Pull off my boots: harder, harder, so.
3 Now thou art an O without a figure: I am better than thou art now.
4 Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now.
5 Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; But now her price is fall'n.
6 She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure, Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.
7 His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blush'd to acknowledge him that now I am braz'd to't.
8 Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down Her delicate cheek.
9 My father watches: O sir, fly this place; Intelligence is given where you are hid; You have now the good advantage of the night.
10 Hold your hand, my lord: I have serv'd you ever since I was a child; But better service have I never done you Than now to bid you hold.
11 I now perceive it was not altogether your brother's evil disposition made him seek his death; but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reproveable badness in himself.
12 Our son of Cornwall, And you, our no less loving son of Albany, We have this hour a constant will to publish Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife May be prevented now.
13 You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little: he always loved our sister most; and with what poor judgement he hath now cast her off appears too grossly.
14 It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the Dukes he values most, for qualities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety.
15 If, till the expiration of your month, You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me: I am now from home, and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
16 This is most strange, That she, who even but now was your best object, The argument of your praise, balm of your age, The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle So many folds of favour.
17 Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds, With harlocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.'
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