King Lear:
Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription: then let fall, Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 08:07
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