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?
Base is the slave that pays.
Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view.
Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
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