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Well, I must do__. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot__ spirit! My throat of war be turn__, Which quier__ with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice That babies lull asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys_ tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar__ tongue Make motion through my lips, and my arm__ knees, Who bow__ but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath receiv__ an alms! I will not do__, Lest I surcease to honor mine own truth, And by my body__ action teach my mind A most inherent baseness.
William Shakespeare Coriolanus
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Well, I must do__. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot__ spirit! My throat of war be turn__, Which quier__ with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice That babies lull asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys_ tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar__ tongue Make motion through my lips, and my arm__ knees, Who bow__ but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath receiv__ an alms! I will not do__, Lest I surcease to honor mine own truth, And by my body__ action teach my mind A most inherent baseness.

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Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.Even now I curse the day__nd yet, I think,Few come within the compass of my curse,__herein I did not some notorious ill,As kill a man, or else devise his death,Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,Set deadly enmity between two friends,Make poor men's cattle break their necks;Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,And bid the owners quench them with their tears.Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.'Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful thingsAs willingly as one would kill a fly,And nothing grieves me heartily indeedBut that I cannot do ten thousand more.