Leont. Her natural posture!—
—————————————— Oh, thus she stood,
Even with such life of majesty,—
—————— when first I woo'd her!—
Would I were dead, but that, methinks already—
What was he, that did make it? See, my lord,
Would you not deem it breath'd? and that these veins
Did verily bear blood?
Paul. Masterly done:
The very life seems warm upon her lip.