 | William Shakespeare - 2007 - 1288 psl.
...slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his or yours neither. Y' have ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at s offended. Who is here so nide that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who... | |
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