Thursday, March 1, 2012

"O my Euphues, little dost thou know the sudden sorrow that I sustain for thy sweet sake, whose wit hath bewitched me, whose rare qualities have deprived me of mine old quality, [whose] courteous behaviour without curiosity, whose comely feature without fault, whose filed speech without fraud hath wrapped me in this misfortune."

Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit

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