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Rh

Good-day!

He's green.

He has nothing left but eyes.

Here are the rebels! Ay, Sirs, on all sides I hear that in your ranks you scoff at me; That the Cadets, these loutish, mountain-bred, Poor country squires, and barons of Périgord, Scarce find for me—their Colonel—a disdain Sufficient! call me plotter, wily courtier! It does not please their mightiness to see A point-lace collar on my steel cuirass,— And they enrage, because a man, in sooth,

May be no ragged-robin, yet a Gascon!

Shall I command your Captain punish you?

No.

I am free, moreover,—will not punish—

Ah!