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04:36am | Dec 04, '06 | No Comments
I still have this verse from A Merchant of Venice stuck in my head.
Damn you, Shakespeare, damn you.
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad.
It wearies me; you say it wearies you.
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn.
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.