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Section 797
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Luc.
Oh prettie Isabella, I am pale at mine
heart, to
see thine eyes so red: thou must be
patient; I am faine
to dine and sup with water and bran: I
dare not for my
head fill my belly. One fruitful Meale
would set mee
too't: but they say the Duke will be
heere to Morrow.
By my troth Isabell I lou'd thy brother, if the olde
fan
tastical Duke of darke corners had bene at home,
he had liued.