Haste, I pray to thee! M'mother doth lack a home. I dwell with m'father, yet would I aid her plight. Haste now, I watch thy stream. Wherefore dost thou strive to quell thy mirth, varlet? 'Tis most unseemly. What aileth thee, knave? Cease thy cursed laughter! I behold thy smile, thou art devoid of grace!
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