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368 pages, Hardcover
First published April 19, 2011
“Imperfect is the glass of other’s eyes
Wherein we seek in hope of handsome glimpse
Yet find dim shapes, reversed and versed again,
Which will not ease our self-love’s appetites.” — Act II Scene vii
No mockery but of my wordless self:As I followed Phillips' fascinating account of how Random House has the play authenticated by experts, I found myself nurturing an impossible hope—not necessarily that the play would be genuine Shakespeare, but that it would be genuine within the context of this fiction, and that Arthur Phillips senior would not be the only one to have worked miracles.
No poet, Guen, no orator at all.
I am untongued when most I want new words
To lock your beauty in my longest thoughts.
I spent too soon the language I did know,
Like to an actor hoarse from preparation.