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in the East Room of the White House,
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John Wilkes Booth lies on a bed of
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dirt and pine needles,
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and reads the worst reviews of his life.
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A man who was raised on Shakespeare
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is brought to his knees by his own hubris.
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In one fell swoop, with one grand gesture,
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he has changed the course of American history
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and dramatically jeopardized
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the fate of the South that he loved so dearly.
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Booth's tragedy is nearly complete.
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On the night of April 20th,