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from King Lear
Alack,
'tis he! why, he was met even now,
As mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud,
Crowned with rank fumitor
and furrow-weeds,
With burdocks,
hemlock,
nettles,
cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel,
and all the idle weeds that grow
In our sustaining corn.
from Cymbeline
Thou shalt not lack
The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose,
nor
The azured harebell,
like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine,
whom not to slander
Out-sweetened not thy breath. The ruddock
would
With charitable bill -- O bill sore shaming
Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
Without a monument! -- bring thee all this,
Yea, and furred moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-gown thy corpse.
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