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Section 511
Passage 1 of 1 · section 511 of 1004
1Qu.
2Royall Sir,
3Since the exile of Posthumus, most retyr'd
4Hath her life bin: the Cure whereof, my Lord,
5'Tis time must do. Beseech your Maiesty,
6Forbeare sharpe speeches to her. Shee's a Lady
7So tender of rebukes, that words are stroke;,
8And strokes death to her.