Or, for my diamond, the chain you promised, And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail, A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, A nut, a cherry-stone But she, more covetous, would have a chain. Master, be wise: an if you give it her, The devil will shake her chain and fright us ...
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