O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have : And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never...
The Works of Shakespeare: Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected - Page 353
by William Shakespeare - 1773
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