'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.
Twelfth-Night [1601-1602], I, v, 259
'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.
Twelfth-Night [1601-1602], I, v, 259