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Poem by George Chapman
Give me a spirit that on this life's rough sea Loves to have his sails filled with a lusty wind Even till his sailyards tremble, his masts crack, And his rapt ship runs on her side so low That she drinks water, and her keel ploughs air; There is no danger to a man that knows What life and death is, - there is no law Exceeds his knowledge: neither is it lawful That he should stoop to any other law.
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