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![]() How easy is a bush supposed a bear! |
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![]() As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. |
![]() Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. |
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![]() That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own. |
![]() I'll lend you something. |
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