Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me; Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
Base is the slave that pays.
Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view.
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