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Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou seest

him,

A little witness my obedience. Look!
I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart:
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief:
Thy master is not there, who was, indeed,
The riches of it: do his bidding; strike.
Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause,
But now thou seem'st a coward.

Pi.

Hence, vile instrument'

Thou shalt not damn my hand.

Imo.

Why, I must die;

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art

No servant of thy master's: against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine,

That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my

heart;

Something's afore 't:-soft, soft; we 'll no defence;
Obedient as the scabbard.-What is here?
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus

All turn'd to heresy? Away, away,

Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more
Be stomachers to my heart! Thus may poor fools
Believe false teachers: though those that are be
tray'd

Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.

Makes covardly.

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