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A young Elizabethan poet for whom success is elusive becomes a woman and embraces the spirit of the age.

Page 46 of 259
Table of Contents

I

Flinging himself from his horse, he made, in his rage, as if he would breast the flood. Standing knee-deep in water, he hurled at the faithless woman all the insults that have ever been the lot of her sex. Faithless, mutable, fickle, he called her; devil, adulteress, deceiver; and the swirling waters took his words, and tossed at his feet a broken pot and a little straw.

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