Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd. raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this... The Plays of William Shakespeare - Página 74por William Shakespeare - 1804Vista completa
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Marvin Rosenberg - 1992 - 431 páginas
...among the poor: he prays for others, finds only fault for himself: Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,...these? O! I have ta'en Too little care of this. Take physic, Pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,...