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A cold sweat pearld in dropps all ore my body; For 'twas my Brothers voice, & were I calld Before a thousand Judges I must sweare It could be no mans els. Buz. Why, then, I must sweare so, too. Hen. "Oh it was I that murthered him! this hand killed him!" Hen. He's up. Buz. I come. Hen. Helpe to make him ready, but not a word on thy life. Buz. Hen. So let it worke; thus far my wheeles goe true.
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