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This is one of the first pieces of Shakespeare I was exposed to, via Mr. K*A*P*L*A*N*. It holds a special memory for me, and I can't help but read it in an eastern European accent and imagine "Julius Scissor" in his tent. I later read MacBeth to get the context, but in my mind, this forever belongs to K*A*P*L*A*N*. Very fun selection!

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I've always loved these lines for the truth and the sort of caution they hold.

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