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Thor: You have no idea who you're dealing with.
Iron Man: Uh..."Shakespeare in the Park"...? "Doth Mother know you weareth her drapes?"
Thor: He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle.
Iron Man: To be or not to be lame? That is the question.
Thor: Thine horrid image doth unfix my hair.
Iron Man: Uneasy lies the head that does not wear the Frizz-Ease.
Thor: Thou leathern jerkin, crystal-button, knot-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch!
Iron Man: Oh Thor, Thor, wherefore art thou a loser who is sore?
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