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Isn't that right?
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Yes, and read all Milton, whose
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whose rhymes do not pounce, Miss Brawne,
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Because there are none!
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John, there are one or two of her kind
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in every fashionable drawing room of this city,
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gasping over skirt lengths.
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I'm sorry. We can have a poetry lesson tomorrow.
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No! I want to dance and flirt,
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Talk of flounces and ribbons till
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I find my old happiness and humor.
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What if the dwarf were to die in act 2?