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Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee? She is (for aught I know), by all the gods,
For I shall guess her love to me by that.

As chaste as ice. But were she foul as hell,
Bel. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were And I did know it thus, the breath of kings,
Something allied to her; or had preserved The points of swords, tortures, nor bulls of brass?
Her life three times by my fidelity.

Should draw it from me. As mothers fond do use their only sons;

Phi. Then it is no time As I'd use one that's left unto my trust,

To dally with thee; I will take thy life, For whom my life should pay if he met hari, For I do hate thee: I could curse thee now. So she does use me.

Bel. If you do hate, you could not curse mo Phi. Why, this is wondrous well:

worse ; But what kind language does she feed thee with? The gods have not a punishment storo Bel. Why, she does tell me she will trust my Greater for me, than is your hate. youth

Phi. Fie, fie, With all her loving secrets; and does call me So young and so dissembling! Tell me when Her pretty servant; bids me weep no more And where thou didst enjoy her, or let plagues For leaving you; she'll see my services

Fall on me, if I destroy thee not. Regarded; and such words of that soft strain, Bel. Heaven knows I never did; and when I lie That I am nearer weeping when she ends To save my life, may I live long and loath'd. Than ere she spake.

Hew me asunder, and, whilst I can think, Phi. This is much better still

I'll love those pieces you have cut away Bel. Are you not ill, my lord ?

Better than those that grow; and kiss those limbs Phi. 11? No, Bellario.

Because you made 'em so. Bel. Methinks, your words

Phi. Fear'st thou not death? Fall not from off your tongue so evenly,

Can boys contemn that ? Nor is there in your looks that quietness

Bel. Ob, what boy is he That I was wont to see.

Can be content to live to be a man, Phi. Thou art deceived, boy:

That sees the best of men thus passionate, And she strokes thy head ?

Thus without reason? Bel. Yes.

Phi. Oh, but thou dost not know Phi. And she does clap thy cheeks?

What 'tis to die.
Bel. She does, my lord.

Bel. Yes, I do know, my lord:
Phi. And she does kiss thee, boy ? ha! 'Tis less than to be born ; a lasting sleep,
Bel. How, my lord ?

A quiet resting from all jealousy;
Phi. She kisses thee?

A thing we all pursue. I know, besides, Bel. Not so, my lord.

It is but giving over of a gaine Phi. Come, come, I know she does.

That must be lost? Bel. No, by my life.

Phi. But there are pains, false boy, Phi. Why, then, she does not love me. Come, For perjured souls; think but on these, and then she does.

Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all. I bade her do it; I charged her, by all charms Bel. May they fall all upon me whilst I live, Of love between us, by the hope of peace

If I be perjured, or have ever thought
We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights Of that you charge me with!. If I be false,
Naked, as to her bed: I took her oath

Send me to suffer in those punishments
Thou should'st enjoy her. Tell me, gentle boy, You speak of; kill me.
Is she not parallelless? Is not her breath

Phi. Oh, what should I do?
Sweet as Arabian winds, when fruits are ripe ? Why, who can but believe him? He does swear
Are not her breasts two liquid ivory balls? So earnestly, that if it were not true,
Is she not all a lasting mine of joy ?

The gods would not endure him. Rise, Bellario ! Bel. Ay, now I see why my disturbed thoughts Thy protestations are so deep, and thou Were so perplex'd: when first I went to her, Dost look so truly, when thou utter'st them, My heart held augury. You are abused; That though I know 'em false, as were my hopes, Some villain has abused you! I do see

I cannot urge thee further. But thou wert Whereto you tend. Fall rocks upon his head To blame to injure me, for I must love That put this to you! 'Tis some subtle train, Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon To bring that noble frame of yours to nought. Thy tender youth: a love from me to thee Phi. Thou think'st I will be angry with thee. Is firm, whate'er thou dost. It troubles me Come,

That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheeks, Thou shalt know all my drift: I hate her more That did so well become thee. But, good boy, Than I love happiness, and placed thee there, Let me not see thee more; something is done To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds.

That will distract me, that will make me mad, Hast thou discover'd ? Is she fall'n to lust, If I behold thee. If thou tender’st? me, As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me. Let me not see thee.

Bel. My lord, you did mistake the boy you sent: Bel. I will fly as far Had she the lust of sparrows, or of goats; As there is morning, ere I give distaste Had she a sin that way, hid from the world, To that most honour'd mind. But through these Beyond the name of lust, I would not aid

tears Her base desires ; but what I came to know Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see As servant to her, I would not reveal,

A world of treason practised upon you, To make my life last ages.

And her, and me. Farewell, for evermore! Phi. Oh, my heart !

If you shall hear that sorrow struck me dead, This is a salve worse than the main disease. And after find me loyal, let there be Tell me thy thoughts; for I will know the least

[Draws. That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart

1 bulls of brass-an allusion to the tyranny of Phalaris, To know it: I will see thy thoughts as plain

who enclosed the wretches that had offended him in a As I do now thy face.

bull of brass, and burned them alive. Bel. Why, so you do.

[Kneels. 2 tender'st-lovest.

his stay.

A tear shed from you in my memory,
And I shall rest at peace.


Enter PHILASTER. Phi. Blessing be with thee,

Phi. Peace to your fairest thoughts, dearest Whatever thou deserv'st!-Oh, where shall I

mistress. Go bathe this body? Nature, too unkind, That made no medicine for a troubled mind!

Are. Oh, my dearest servant,' I have a war

within me. [Exit.

Phi. He must be more than man, that makes

these crystals

Run into rivers. Sweetest fair, the cause ?
ARETHƯSA's Apartment in the Palace.

And, as I am your slave, tied to your goodness,

Your creature, made again, from what I was,

And newly-spirited, I'll right your honour.
Are. I marvel my boy comes not back again : Are. Oh, my best love, that boy!
But that I know my love will question him

Phi. What boy?
Over and over, how I slept, waked, talk'd;

Are. The pretty boy you gave me-
How I remomber'd him when his dear name Phi. What of him?
Was last spoke, and how, when I sigh’d, wept, Are. Must be no more mine.

Phi. Why?
And ten thousand such ; I should be angry at Are. They are jealous of him.

Phi. Jealous! who?
Enter KING.

Are. The king.

Phi. Oh, my misfortune! King. What, at your meditations? Who at Then 'tis no idle jealousy. [Aside.]-Let him go. tends you?

Are. Oh, cruel! Are. None but my single self. I need no guard; Are you hard-hearted too? Who shall now tell I do no wrong, nor fear none.

you King. Tell

have you not a boy?

How much I loved you? who shall swear it to Are. Yes, sir.

you? King. What kind of boy?

And weep the tears I send? who shall now bring Are. A page, a waiting-boy.

you King. A handsome boy?

Letters, rings, bracelets ? lose his health in Are. I think he be not ugly:

service ? Well qualified, and dutiful, I know him; Wake tedious nights in stories of your praise ? I took him not for beauty.

Who shall now sing your crying elegies? King. He speaks, and sings, and plays ? And strike a sad soul into senseless pictures, Are. Yes, sir.

And make them mourn? who shall take up his King. About eighteen?

lute, Are. I never ask'd his age.

And touch it, till he crown a silent sleep King. Is he full of service ?

Upon my eyelids, making me dream, and cry, Are. By your pardon, why do you ask? "Oh, my dear, dear Philaster!' King. Put him away.

Phi. Oh, my heart! Are. Sir!

Would he had broken thee, that made thee know King. Put him away! He has done you that | This lady was not loyal.-Mistress, forget good service,

The boy: I'll get thee a far better. Shames me to speak of.

Are. Oh, never, never such a boy again Are. Good sir, let me understand you.

As my Bellario! King. If you fear me,

Phi. 'Tis but your fond affection. Show it in duty. Put away that boy.

Are. With thee, my boy, farewell for ever Are. Let me have reason for it, sir, and then All secrecy in servants! Farewell faith, Your will is my command.

And all desire to do well for itself! King. Do not you blush to ask it ? Cast him Let all that shall succeed thee, for thy wrongs, off,

Sell and betray chaste love! Or I shall do the same to you. You're one

Phi. And all this passion for a boy? Shame with me, and so near unto myself,

Are. He was your boy, and you put him to me, That, by my life, I dare not tell myself,

And the loss of such must have a mourning for. What you, myself , have done.

Phi. Oh, thou forgetful woman! Are. What have I done, my lord ?

Are. How, my lord ? King. 'Tis a new language, that all love to Phi. False Arethusa! learn:

Hast thou a medicine to restore my wits, The common people speak it well already; When I have lost 'em? If not, leave to talk, They need no grammar. Understand we well; And do thus. There be foul whispers stirring. Cast him off, Are. Do what, sir ? Would you sleep? And suddenly. Do it! Farewell. [Exit King. Phi. For ever, Arethusa. Oh, ye gods,

Are. Where may a maiden live securely free, Give me a worthy patience! Have I stood Keeping her honour fair? Not with the living ; Naked, alone, the shock of many fortunes? They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams, Have I seen mischiefs numberless, and mighty, And make 'em truths; they draw a nourishment Grow like a sea upon me? Have I taken Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces;

Danger as stern as death into my bosom, And, when they see a virtue fortified

And laugh'd upon it, made it but a mirth, Strongly above the battery of their tongues,

And flung it by? Do I live now like him, Oh, how they casti to sink it; and, defeated Under this tyrant king, that languishing (Soul-sick with poison), strike the monuments Hears his sad bell, and see his mourners? Do I Where noble names lie sleeping; till they sweat, Bear all this bravely, and must sink at length And the cold marble melt.

Under a woman's falsehood ? Oh, that boy,

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for you


Make my

That cursed boy! None but a villain boy

Are. Peace guide thee! Thou hast overthrown To ease your lust?

me once ; Are. Nay, then I am betray'd :

Yet, if I had another Troy to lose, I feel the plot cast for my overthrow.

Thou, or another villain, with thy looks, Oh, I am wretched!

Might talk me out of it, and send me naked, Phi. Now you may take that little right I have My hair dishevell’d, through the fiery streets. To this poor kingdom. Give it to your joy; For I have no joy in it. Some far place,

Enter a Lady.
Where never womankind durst set her foot, Lady. Madam, the king would hunt, and calls
For bursting with her poisons, must I seek,
And live to curse you:

With earnestness.
There dig a cave, and preach to birds and beasts Are. I am in tune to hunt!
What woman is, and help to save them from you: Diana, if thou canst rage with a maid
How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts, As with a man, let me discover thee
More hell than hell has: how your tongues, like Bathing, and turn me to a fearful hind,

That I may die pursued by cruel hounds, Both heal and poison : how your thoughts are And have my story written in my wounds.

[Exeunt. With thousand changes in one subtle web, And worn so by you: how that foolish man That reads the story of a woman's face, And dies believing it, is lost for ever: How all the good you have is but a shadow,

ACT IV.-SCENE I. l' th' morning with you, and at night behind you, Past and forgotten. How your vows are frosts,

A Forest. Fast for a night, and with the next sun gone :

Enter KING, PIARAMOND, ARETHƯSA, GALATEA, How you are, being taken all together, A mere confusion, and so dead a chaos,


tendants. That love cannot distinguish. These sad texts, Till my last hour, I am bound to utter of you. King. What, are the hounds before, and all the So, farewell all my woe, all my delight!


[Exit PHILASTER. Our horses ready, and our bows bent? Are. Be merciful, ye gods, and strike me dead! Dion. All, sir. What way have I deserved this ?

King. You are cloudy, sir. Come, we have breast

forgotten Transparent as pure crystal, that the world, Your venial trespass; let not that sit heavy Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought Upon your spirit: here's none dare utter it.My heart holds. Where shall a woman turn her Dion. He looks like an old surfeited stallion eyes,

after his leaping, dull as a dormouse. See how To find out constancy?

he sinks ! The wench has shot him between

wind and water, and, I hope, sprung a leak. Enter BELLARIO.

Thra. He needs no teaching, he strikes sure Save me, how black

enough ; his greatest fault is, he hunts too much And guiltily, methinks, that boys looks now! in the purlieus. Would he would leave off Oh, thou dissembler, that, before thou spak’st, poaching! Wert in thy cradle false, sent to make lies,

Dion. And for his horn, he has left it at the And betray innocents! Thy lord and thou lodge where he lay late.! Oh, he's a precious May glory in the ashes of a maid

lime-hound!? Turn him loose upon the pursuit Fool'd by her passion ; but the conquest is of a lady, and if he lose her, hang him up i' th' Nothing so great as wicked. Fly away!

slip. When my fox-bitch Beauty grows proud, Let my command force thee to that, which shame I'll borrow him.Would do without it. If thou understood'st King. Is your boy turn'd away? The loathed office thou hast undergone,

Are. You did command, sir, and I obey'd you. Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills, King. 'Tis well done. Hark ye further. Lest men should dig and find thee.

[They talk apart. Bel. Oh, what god,

Cle. Is't possible this fellow should repent? Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease Methinks, that were not noble in him; and yet Into the noblest minds ? Madam, this grief he looks like a mortified member, as if he had a You add unto me is no more than drops

sick man's salves in's mouth. If a worse man To seas, for which they are not seen to swell: had done this fault now, some physical justice or My lord hath struck his anger through my heart, other would presently (without the help of an And let out all the hope of future joys.

almanack) have opened the obstructions of his You need not bid me fly; I came to part, liver, and let him blood with a dog-whip. To take my latest? leave. Farewell for ever! Dion. See, see, how modestly yon lady looks, I durst not run away, in honesty,

as if she came from churching with her neighFrom such a lady, like a boy that stole,

bour. Why, what a devil can a man see in her Or made some grievous fault. The power of gods face, but that she's honest ! Assist you in your sufferings! Hasty time Thra. 'Troth no great matter to speak of; a Reveal the truth to your abused lord

foolish twinkling with the eye, that spoils her And mine, that he may know your worth; whilst I coat; but he must be a cunning herald that finds Go seek out some forgotten place to die!

it. [Exit BELLARIO. Dion. See how they muster one another! Oh,

1 For bursting—for fear of bursting. It was vulgarly supposed there were places where no venomous creature could live, Ireland being one.-Mason.

2 latest-last.

1 late-lately.

2 lime-hounil-a sporting dog, led by a kind of thing called a lyam, or lyme; Fr. limier.-NARES.

3 sick man's salve-See note 2, p. 199, col. 2.

my bed

there's a rank regiment where the devil carries to find her: and he has sweat for it. She rides the colours, and his dam drum-major! Now the well, and she pays well. Hark! let's go. world and the flesh come behind with the car

[Exeunt. riage,

Enter PHILASTER. Čle. Sure, this lady has a good turn done her against her will. Before, she was common talk;

Phi. Oh that I had been nourish'd in these now, none dare say cantharides can stir her. woods, Her face looks like a warrant, willing and com

With milk of goats and acorns, and not known manding all tongues, as they will answer it, to be The right of crowns, nor the dissembling trains! tied up and bolted when this lady means to let Of women's looks; but digg'd myself a cave, herself loose. As I live, she has got her a goodly Where I, my fire, my cattle, and my bed, protection, and a gracious; and may use her body Might have been shut together in one shed; discreetly, for her health's sake, once a week, And then had taken me some mountain girl, excepting Lent and Dog-days. Oh, if they were

Beaten with winds, chaste as the harden'd rocks to be got for money, what a great sum would Whereon she dwells; that might have strew'd come out of the city for these licences ! King. To horse, to horse! We lose the morn

With leaves and reeds, and with the skins of beasts, ing, gentlemen.

[Exeunt. Our neighbours; and have borne at her big breasts

My large coarse issue! This had been a life

Free from vexation.


Bel. Oh, wicked men!
Another part of the Forest.

An innocent may walk safe among beasts;
Enter two Woodmen.

Nothing assaults me here. See my griev'd lord

Sits as his soul were searching out a way 1 Wood. What, have you lodged the deer? To leave his body.-Pardon me, that must 2 Wood. Yes, they are ready for the bow. Break thy last commandment; for I must speak. 1 Wood. Who shoots ?

You, that are grieved, can pity: hear, my lord. 2 Wood. The princess.

Phi. Is there a creature yet so miserable, 1 Wood. No, she'll hunt.

That I can pity ? 2 Wood. She'll take a stand, I say.

Bel. Oh, my noble lord! 1 Wood. Who else?

View my strange fortune; and bestow on me, 2 Wood. Why, the young stranger prince. According to your bounty (if my service

1 Wood. He shall shoot in a stone-bowa for me. Can merit nothing) so much as may serve I never loved his beyond-sea-ship, since he for To keep that little piece I hold of life sook the say, for paying ten shillings. He was

From cold and hunger. there at the fall of a deer, and would needs (out Phi. Is it thou ? Begone! of his mightiness) give ten groats for the dow-Go sell those misbeseeming clothes thou wearist, cets;4 marry, the steward would have had the And feed thyself with them. velvet-head into the bargain to tuft his hat withal. Bel. Alas! my lord, I can get nothing for them! I think he should love venery: he is an old Sir The silly country people think 'tis treason Tristrem ;for, if you be remember'd, he forsook To touch such gay things. the stag once, to strike a rascal mitching? in a Phi. Now, by my life, this is meadow, and her he killed in the eye. Who Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight. shoots else?

Thou’rt fallen again to thy dissembling trade: 2 Wood. The Lady Galatea.

How, should'st thou think to cozen me again? 1 Wood. That's a good wench, an she would Remains there yet a plague untried for me; not chide us for tumbling of her women in the Even so thou wept'st, and look'd'st, and spok'st, brakes. She's liberal, and, by my bow, they say

I took thee up:

(when first she's honest; and whether that be a fault, I have Curse on the time! If thy commanding tears nothing to do. There's all?

Can work on any other, use thy art, 2 Wood. No, one more; Megra.

I'll not betray it. Which way wilt thou take, 1 Wood. That's a firker,& i' faith, boy; there's a That I may shun thee? for thine eyes are poison wench will ride her haunches as hard after a To mine; and I am loath to grow in rage. kennel of hounds, as a hunting saddle; and when This way, or that way? she comes home, get 'em clapt, and all is well Bel. Any will serve. But I will choose to have again. I have known her lose herself three times. That path in chase that leads unto my grave. in one afternoon (if the woods have been answer (Exeunt PHILASTER and BELLARIO

sererally. able), and it has been work enough for one man

Enter Dion and the Woodmen.
Dion. This is the strangest sudden chance !

You woodmen!
I carriage-baggage.
2 stone-bow-a cross-bow, which shoots stones.-DYCE.

1 Wood. My lord Dion! 3 since he forsook the say (i.e. assay). When a deer is

Dion. Saw you a lady come this way, on a sable hunted down, and to be cut up, it is a ceremony for the

horse, studded with stars of white ? keeper to offer his knife to a man of the first distinction 2 Wood. Was she not young and tall? in the field, that he may cut up the belly, and take an Dion. Yes. Rode she to the wood or to the assay of the plight and fatness of the game. But this plain? Pharamond declined, to save the customary fee of ten shillings.-THEOBALD.

2 Wood. 'Faith, my lord, we saw none. 4 dorocets or doulcets--the testes.

[Exeunt Woodmen. 5 Sir Tristrem. This hero in romance is reputed the patron saint of the chase.

Enter CLEREMONT. 6 rascal-a lean deer or doe.

Dion. Pox of your questions, then !-What! i. ? mitching or miching -- skulking, creeping, solitary. she found ? The reading here is doubtful: Dyce suggests walking.

8 firker. To firk is to quirk, truck; here it is used in & bad sense.-WEBER.

I trains-artifices.

Cle. Nor will be, I think.

Gal. 'Twould ill become my fortunes and my Dion. Let him seek his daughter himself. She To disobey the daughter of my king. [birth cannot stray about a little necessary natural busi King. You're all cunning to obey us for our ness, but the whole court must be in arms. When But I will have her.

[hurt; she has done we shall have peace.

Pha. If I have her not, Cle. There's already a thousand fatherless tales By this hand there shall be no more Sicily. amongst us: some say, her horse ran away with Dion. What, will he carry it to Spain in's pocket? her; some, a wolf pursued her; others, it was a Pha. I will not leave one man alive, but the plot to kill her, and that armed men were seen in A cook, and a tailor.

[king, the wood: but, questionless, she rode away will Dion. Yet you may do well to spare your lady ingly.

bedfellow; and her you may keep for a spawner.

King. I see the injuries I have done must be Enter KING, THRASILINE, and Attendants.

revenged. King. Where is she?

Dion. Sir, this is not the way to find her out. Cle. Sir, I cannot tell.

King. Run all; disperse yourselves! The man King. How is that?

that finds her, Answer me so again !

Or (if she be kill'd) the traitor, I'll make him great. Cle. Sir, shall I lie?

Dion. I know some would give five thousand King. Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me pounds to find her. that.

Pha. Come, let us seek. I say again, where is she? Mutter not!

King. Each man a several way; Sir, speak you! Where is she ?

Here I myself. Dion. Sir, I do not know.

Dion. Come, gentlemen, we here. King. Speak that again so boldly, and by

Cle. Lady, you must go search too. Heaven,

Meg. I had rather be search'd myself. It is thy last.—You fellows, answer me;

[Exeunt severally.
Where is she? Mark me all; I am your king;
I wish to see my daughter; show her me :
I do command you all, as you are subjects,

To show her me! What! am I not your king ?
If ay,' then am I not to be obeyed ?

Another part of the Forest.
Dion. Yes, if you command things possible and

Enter ARETH USA. King. Things possible and honest! Hear me, Are. Where am I now ? Feet, find me out a way thou,

Without the counsel of my troubled head: Thou traitor! that dar'st confine thy king to things I'll follow you boldly about these woods, Possible and honest; show her to me,

O'er mountains, thorough brambles,pits and floods. Or, let me perish if I cover not

Heaven, I hope, will ease me. I am sick. All Sicily with blood!

[Sits down. Dion. Indeed I cannot, unless you tell me where she is.

Enter BELLARIO. King. You have betrayed me; you have let me Bel. Yonder's my lady ; Heaven knows I want The jewel of my life: go bring her me, [lose Because I do not wish to live; yet I [nothing, And set her here, before me: 'tis the king Will try her charity.-Will have it so; whose breath can still the winds, Oh hear, you that have plenty: from that flowing Uncloud the sun, charm down the swelling sea, store, And stop the floods of heaven. Speak, can it not? | Drop some on dry ground. -See, the lively red Dion. No.

Is gone to guard her heart! I fear she faints.King. No! cannot the breath of kings do this? Madam, look up!-She breathes not. Open once

Dion. No, nor smell sweet itself, if once the lungs be but corrupted.

Those rosy twins, and send unto my lord King. Is it so ? Take heed!

Your latest farewell. Oh, she stirs !-How is it, Dion. Sir, take you heed, how you dare the Madam? Speak comfort. powers that must be just.

Are. 'Tis not gently done,
King. Alas! what are we kings ?

To put me in a miserable life,
Why do you, gods, place us above the rest, And hold me there : I prythee let me go;
To be served, flattered, and ador'd, till we

I shall do best without thee: I am well.
Believe we hold within our hands your thunder;
And, when we come to try the power we have,

There's not a leaf shakes at our threatenings?

Phi. I am to blame to be so much in rage: I have sinn'd, 'tis true, and here stand to be

I'll tell her coolly when and where I heard punished;

This killing truth. I will be temperate Yet would not thus be punish'd. Let me choose

In speaking, and as just in hearing:My way, and lay it on.

Oh, monstrous ! Tempt me not, ye gods! good Dion. He articles with the gods. Would somebody would draw bonds for the performance Tempt not a frail man! What's he that has a heart,

gods, of covenants betwixt them!

[Aside. But he must ease it here! Enter PAARAMOND, GALATEA, and MEGRA.

Bel. My lord, help the princess.

Are. I am well: forbear. King. What, is she found?

Phi. Let me love lightning, let me be embraced Pha. No; we have ta'en her horse:

And kissed by scorpions, or adore the eyes He gallop'd empty by. There is some treason. Of basilisks, rather than trust the tongues You, Galatea, rode with her into the wood; Of hell-bred women! Some good god look down, Why left you her?

And shrink these veins up; stick me here a stone Gal. She did command me.

Lasting to ages, in the memory King. Command! You should not.

Of this damn'd act: hear me, you wicked ones;


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