utole
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,
5 I am to learn;
(And such a wane-wit sadness makes of me
That I have much ado to know myself.
aleant mind
Som
med
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