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Call with like timorous accent and dire yell as when by night and negligence the fire is spied in populous cities.
Thou must needs be sure my spirit and my place have in them power to make this bitter to thee.
Do not believe that from the sense of all civility I thus would play and trifle with your reverence.
I fetch my life and being from men of royal siege.
'Tis a pageant to keep us in false gaze.
Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
Take up this mangled matter at the best. Men do their broken weapons rather use than their bare hands.
Every man put himself into triumph: some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him.
I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.
'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.
My blood begins my safer guides to rule and passion, having my best judgement collied, assays to lead the way.
I perchance am vicious in my guess - as I confess it is my nature's plague to spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy shapes faults that are not.
O you mortal engines whose rude throats th'immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, farewell.
But words are words. I never yet did hear that the bruised heart was piercèd through the ears.
I shall in a more continuate time strike off this score of absence.
Stand you a while apart, confine yourself but in a patient list.
Prithee bear some charity to my wit, do not think it is so unwholesome.
Are his wits safe? Is he not light of brain?
What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know'st we work by wit and not by witchcraft, and wit depends on dilatory time.
I apprehend and do attach thee for an abuser of the world, a practiser of arts inhibited and out of warrant.
The tyrant custom hath made the flinty and steel couch of war my thrice-driven bed of down.
Every day thou doff'st me with some device.
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