Title: Optional

Text: If after every tempest come such calms may the winds blow till they have wakened death, and let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, Olympus-high, and duck again as low as hell's from heaven. If it were now to die 'twere now to be most happy, for I fear my soul hath her content so absolute that not another comfort like to this succeeds in unknown fate. Each paragraph will be a test.

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