Sometime we see a cloud that’s dragonish; A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, A tower’d citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon’t, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen these signs; They are black vesper’s pageants.
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If the citadel falls, all is lost.
The New York Stock Exchange is a citadel of capitalism.