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Out, damned spot! Out, I say! One-two-- why then 'tis time to do't. Yes who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?
I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked?
I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed
It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands.
Cure her of that.
Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies That keep her from her rest.
Let every soldier hew him down a bough And bear ’t before him. Thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host and make discovery Err in report of us.
I’ll fight till from my bones my flesh be hacked. Give me my armor.
The queen, my lord, is dead.
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