Act 3 Scene 4
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Thou canst not say I did it. Never shakeThy gory locks at me.
Sit, worthy friends. My lord is often thusAnd hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat.The fit is momentary
Prithee, see there! Behold! Look! Lo!
If I stand here, I saw him.
What, quite unmanned in folly?
Fie, for shame!
Avaunt, and quit my sight! Letthe earth hide thee.Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold.Thou hast no speculation in those eyesWhich thou dost glare with!
Think of this, good peers,But as a thing of custom. 'Tis no other;Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.