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POLIXENES. [_Discovering himself._] Mark your divorce, young sir, Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre’s heir, That thus affects a sheep-hook! Thou, old traitor, I am sorry that, by hanging thee, I can But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece Of excellent witchcraft, whom of force must know The royal fool thou cop’st with,—