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And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.
and guzzles his German wine, the musicians play the drum and trumpet to mark each time he drinks another cup.
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Is it a custom?
Is that a tradition?
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Ay, marry, is t. But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honored in the breach than the observance.
It is. But in my opinion though I was born here and should think it natural Id say its a custom that wed be better off ignoring rather than observing.
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This heavy-headed revel east and west Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations. They clepe us drunkards and with swinish phrase Soil our addition.
Countries to the east and west mock and criticize us for our partying. They call us drunks and pigs, staining our reputation.
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And indeed it takes From our achievements, though performed at height, The pith and marrow of our attribute.
And theyre right our behavior does reduce our achievements, despite their greatness, because it is a flaw in our core qualities.
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So oft it chances in particular men That for some vicious mole of nature in them As in their birth (wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin), By the oergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much oerleavens The form of plausive manners
Its similar to what happens to certain people who are born with some terrible defect (a defect for which they bear no responsibility, since no one can choose his own beginning); or some excess of a more normal trait; or some kind of compulsion that makes it impossible for them to act in a way that pleases others.
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that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being natures livery or fortunes star, Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo) Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault.
For such men as these even if they are kind or limitlessly talented this single defect, whether they were born with it or got it through some misfortune, will result in others always seeing them as corrupt or evil.
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The dram of evil Doth all the noble substance of a doubt To his own scandal.
That tiny bit of evil casts doubt on all their good qualities and wrecks their reputations.
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Look, my lord, it comes!
Look, here comes the ghost, my lord!
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Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou comest in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee.
Angels protect us! Whether youre a good spirit bringing breezes from heaven, or an evil demon wielding hell fire, whether your intentions are wicked or friendly, you appear in a shape that invites so many questions that I must speak to you.
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Ill call thee œHamlet, œKing, œFather, œroyal Dane. O, answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements;
Ill call you œHamlet, œKing, œFather, œroyal Dane. Oh, answer me! Dont make me explode from curiosity. Tell me why your bones, which were blessed and sanctified in burial rites, have burst out of their coffin,
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why the sepulcher, Wherein we saw thee quietly interred, Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws To cast thee up again.
and why your tomb, in whose quiet we buried you, has opened up its weighty marble jaws to spit you out again.
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What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous and we fools of nature, So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
What does it mean that you, dead corpse, once again walk beneath the moon in full armor making the night terrifying, and forcing on us mere mortals to face thoughts that are beyond our ability to understand?
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Say why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?
Tell me why? Why? What should we do?
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It beckons you to go away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone.
It motions you to go off with it, as if it wants to say something to you alone.
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Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removd ground. But do not go with it.
Look how politely its directing you to go to a spot thats farther away. But dont go with it.
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No, by no means.
No, by all means do not.
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It will not speak. Then I will follow it.
Its not going to speak here. So I will follow it.
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Do not, my lord.
Dont, my lord.
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Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life in a pins fee,
Why, what should I fear? I dont value my life at even the price of a pin.
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And for my soul what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
And as for my soul, what can the ghost do to that, since its as immortal as the ghost is?
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It waves me forth again. Ill follow it.
Its waving for me to come after it again. Ill follow it.
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What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord,
What if it leads you toward the sea, my lord?
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Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles oer his base into the sea, And there assume some other horrible form, Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness?
Or to the high cliff that overhangs the ocean, and then morphs into a beast so horrible that seeing it drives you insane?
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Think of it. The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain That looks so many fathoms to the sea And hears it roar beneath.
Think about it. That cliff's edge over the sea with its view into those watery depths and the roar of the crashing waves makes people feel despair even when they have no reason to.
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It waves me still. Go on. Ill follow thee.
Its still waving to me.
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You shall not go, my lord.
You will not go, my lord.
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Hold off your hands.
Let go of me.
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Be ruled. You shall not go.
Listen to us. You must not go.
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My fate cries out And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Nemean lions nerve.
My fate calls out to me, making every sinew of my body as taut as those of the legendary Nemean lion .
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Still am I called. Unhand me, gentlemen.
The ghost still motions for me. Let go of me, gentlemen.
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By heaven, Ill make a ghost of him that lets me. I say, away!
By God, Ill make a ghost of any of you who holds me back! I say, move away!
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He waxes desperate with imagination.
His wild thoughts have made him desperate.
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Lets follow. ˜Tis not fit thus to obey him.
Lets follow him. Its not right for us to obey his orders to stay away.
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Have after. To what issue will this come?
Lets go after him. But what does all this mean?
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Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.
That something is wrong in the state of Denmark.
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Heaven will direct it.
God will determine what will come of all this.
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Nay, lets follow him.
No, lets follow him.
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Where wilt thou lead me? Speak, Ill go no further.
Where are you leading me? Speak. Im not going any farther.
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Mark me.
Listen to me.
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I will.
I will.
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My hour is almost come When I to sulfurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself.
The hour has almost come when I must return to the torment of the flames of purgatory.
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Alas, poor ghost!
Oh no, poor ghost!
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Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold.
Dont pity me. But listen carefully to what I have to say.
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Speak. I am bound to hear.
Speak. I promise to listen.
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So art thou to revenge when thou shalt hear.
Then you must promise to avenge my death, too, when you hear what I say.
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What?
What?
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I am thy fathers spirit, Doomed for a certain term to walk the night And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away.
Im the ghost of your father, doomed for a certain time to walk the earth at night. During the day, Im confined in the fires of purgatory, until those flames have burned away the sins I committed in my life.
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But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
If I werent forbidden to tell you the secrets of purgatory, I could tell you stories that would cut up your soul, freeze your blood,
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Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combind locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fearful porpentine.
make your eyes bulge from their sockets, and your hair stand on end like the quills of a frightened porcupine.
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But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love
But the secrets of purgatory must not be told to mortals. Listen, listen, oh, listen! If you ever loved your dear father
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O God!
Oh God!
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Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.
Take revenge for his awful and horrible murder.
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Murder?
Murder?
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Murder most foul, as in the best it is. But this most foul, strange and unnatural.
His most awful murder. All murder is awful, but this one was even more awful, startling, and unnatural.
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Haste me to know t, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge.
Tell me quickly about it, so that I can rush to take revenge, even faster than a person can think thoughts of love.
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I find thee apt, And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this.
I like your words. Youd have to be as slow and dull as a weed growing on the banks of Lethe not to be brought to anger by my story.
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Now, Hamlet, hear. ˜Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forgd process of my death Rankly abused.
Now, Hamlet, listen. The official story is that a poisonous snake bit me while I was sleeping in the orchard. That is a lie that deceives all of Denmark.
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But know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy fathers life Now wears his crown.
You noble youth, know that the snake that killed your father is now wearing his crown.
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O my prophetic soul! My uncle?
Oh, my far-seeing soul! My uncle?
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Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce! won to his shameful lust The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen.
Yes, that incestuous, adulterous beast. With his evil wit and traitorous gifts oh wicked wit and gifts, that have the power to seduce! he convinced my seemingly virtuous queen to give in to his lust.
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O Hamlet, what a falling off was there! From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine.
Oh, Hamlet, she fell so far! From me, who loved her with the dignity that goes hand in hand with my marriage vows, to a wretch whose natural abilities could not compare to mine.
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But virtue, as it never will be moved, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So lust, though to a radiant angel linked, Will sate itself in a celestial bed And prey on garbage.
But just as true virtue cant be corrupted, so will lust show its true nature by satisfying itself first in the blessing of heavenly marriage and then by wallowing in garbage.
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But soft! Methinks I scent the morning air. Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, My custom always of the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial, And in the porches of my ears did pour The leperous distilment,
But wait. I think I smell the morning air. I must speak quickly. As I was sleeping in the orchard as I used to do every afternoon your uncle snuck up and poured a vial of henbane poison into my ear.
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whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body And with a sudden vigor doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood. So did it mine.
That poison which is like a natural enemy of blood spreads like quicksilver through the veins and curdles the blood. So it did to mine.
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And a most instant tetter barked about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust All my smooth body. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brothers hand Of life, of crown, of queen at once dispatched,
I broke instantly into a rash that covered my smooth body with a revolting crust. And so, as I slept, my brother stole my life, my crown, and my queen.
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Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhouseled, disappointed, unaneled. No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head. Oh, horrible, oh, horrible, most horrible!
He killed me even as I was still gripped by sin, because I did not get to repent my sins or receive last rites. I was sent to death with all my sins still on my head. Oh, horrible, horrible, most horrible!
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If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not. Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damnd incest. But howsoever thou pursuest this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught.
If you have any natural feelings of a son for a father in you, dont let this stand. Dont let the bed of the Danish king be a nest of incest. But however you attempt to get revenge, dont allow your mind or soul to contemplate harming your mother.
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Leave her to heaven And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. The glowworm shows the matin to be near, And ˜gins to pale his uneffectual fire. Adieu, adieu, adieu. Remember me.
Leave her fate to God, and to the sting of her own guilt. Goodbye now. The glow of light on the horizon shows that morning is near. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. Remember me.
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O all you host of heaven! O earth! What else? And shall I couple hell? Oh, fie! Hold, hold, my heart, And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up.
Oh, all you angels of heaven! Oh, everyone on earth! What else? Should I include hell too? Oh, curses! Keep beating, my heart, and muscles, dont grow suddenly old hold me upright.
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Remember thee! Ay, thou poor ghost, whiles memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee!
Remember you? Yes, you poor ghost, as long as I have any memory in my distracted head. Remember you?
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Yea, from the table of my memory Ill wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past That youth and observation copied there, And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmixed with baser matter.
Yes, Ill wipe clean my memory of all unimportant facts, all the wise sayings of books, all images and impressions from my youth, so that your commandment alone will live there.
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Yes, by heaven! O most pernicious woman! O villain, villain, smiling, damnd villain! My tables! Meet it is I set it down That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. At least Im sure it may be so in Denmark.
Yes, by heaven! Oh, you wicked woman! Oh, you villain, villain, damned, smiling villain! Wheres my notebook? I should write down that one can smile and smile, and still be a villain. At least its possible to do so in Denmark.
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So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word. It is œAdieu, adieu. Remember me. I have sworn t.
So, uncle, there you are. Now I must fulfill my vow. He said, œRemember me. Ive sworn I would.
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My lord, my lord!
My lord, my lord!
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Lord Hamlet
Lord Hamlet
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Heaven secure him!
God protect him!
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So be it.
So be it.
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Illo, ho, ho, my lord!
Hello, hello there, my lord!
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Hillo, ho, ho, boy. Come, bird, come.
Hello, hello there, boy! Come to me.
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How is t, my noble lord?
What happened, my noble lord?
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What news, my lord?
What did you learn, my lord?
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Oh, wonderful!
Oh, it was amazing!
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Good my lord, tell it.
My lord, tell us.
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No. Youll reveal it.
No. Youll reveal my secret.
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Not I, my lord, by heaven.
I swear to God I wont, my lord.
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Nor I, my lord.
Nor will I, my lord.
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How say you, then? Would heart of man once think it? But youll be secret?
You say so, but can you promise youll keep the secret?
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Ay, by heaven, my lord.
Yes, I swear to God, my lord.
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Theres neer a villain dwelling in all Denmark But hes an arrant knave.
Theres not a villain in Denmark who isnt a complete liar .
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There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this.
My lord, we didnt need a ghost returning from the grave to tell us that.
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Why, right, you are in the right. And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part.
Why, right, you are right. So, with that, Id say that the best thing would be for us to shake hands and go our separate ways.
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You, as your business and desire shall point you For every man has business and desire, Such as it is and for my own poor part,
You go wherever your business takes you since every man has some business to take care of, whatever it is.
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Look you, Ill go pray.
As for me,ll go and pray.
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These are but wild and whirling words, my lord.
Your words are wild and meaningless, my lord.
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Im sorry they offend you, heartily. Yes faith, heartily.
Im very sorry they offended you. Yes, by God, very sorry.
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Theres no offense, my lord.
There was no offense, my lord.
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Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offense too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you.
Ah, but I swear by Saint Patrick that there is, Horatio. A lot of offense. As for this ghost, hes an honest one, Ill tell you that.
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For your desire to know what is between us, Oermaster t as you may.
But as for your desire to know what happened between us, control yourself and dont ask.
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And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars and soldiers, Give me one poor request.
And now, good friends and you are friends, scholars, and soldiers do me one small favor.