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Montāžas Teksta
Are all the people mad?
This will I tell my lady straight. I would not be in some of your coats for two pence.
Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you.
What relish is in this? How runs the stream?Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep.
Go with me to my house,And hear thou there how many fruitless pranksThis ruffian hath botched up, that thou therebyMayst smile at this.
Madam, I will.
Out, hyperbolical fiend! How vexest thou this man! Talkest thou nothing but of ladies?
Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. Good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad. They have laid me here in hideous darkness.
I’ll have an action of battery against him if there be any law in Illyria. Though I struck him first, yet it’s no matter for that.
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