A southwest blow on ye and blister you all o’er!’
‘The red plague rid you!’
‘Toads, beetles, bats, light on you!’
‘As wicked dew as e’er my mother brushed with raven’s feather from unwholesome fen drop on you.’
‘Strange stuff’
‘Thou jesting monkey thou’
‘Apes with foreheads villainous low’
‘Pied ninny’
‘Blind mole…’
-The Caliban Curses

Go ye, who rest so placidly upon the sacred Bard who had been young, and when he strung his harp was old, and had never seen the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging their bread; go, Teachers of content and honest pride, into the mine, the mill, the forge, the squalid depths of deepest ignorance, and uttermost abyss of man’s neglect, and say can any hopeful plant spring up in air so foul that it extinguishes the soul’s bright torch as fast as it is kindled!

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