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[Curtain]Narrator [entering and about to speak when he hears voices behind the scrim. Walking over, he peers through an opening in it]:How they weep, how they mourn,The wind-borne dead!No new…
I cannot linger in Egypt. They that came before me tarried too long. I have had the taste on my tongue and the dead air in my nostrils. Enough. That will serve.
Zagazig…