mercredi 11 mars 2009

Les incipits : SHAKESPEARE, Love's Labour's Lost.

KING — Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death ;
When, spite of cormorant devouring Time,
Th'endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.

William SHAKESPEARE, Love's Labour's Lost, 1598.

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