King Lear, [1.4.191-197]. Fool. “Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face bids me, though you say nothing./ Mum, mum,/ He that keeps nor crust nor crumb,/ Weary of all, shall want some. [Pointing to Lear.] That’s a sheal’d peascod.”
King Lear, [1.4.191-197]. Fool. “Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face bids me, though you say nothing./ Mum, mum,/ He that keeps nor crust nor crumb,/ Weary of all, shall want some. [Pointing to Lear.] That’s a sheal’d peascod.”
May 15, 2009 at 11:41 am
[…] [4.4.1-8]. Oak: “oak-cleaving” lightning, [3.2.4-7]. Oats: [5.3.39-40]. Peascod: [1.4.191-197]. Rosemary: [2.3.13-20]. Samphire: [4.6.15]. Straw: necessities make vile things precious […]