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Rh What's wrong with your hand?

Nought; a slight cut.

Have you been in some danger?

None in the world.

Methinks you speak not the truth in saying that!

Did you see my nose quiver when I spoke? 'Faith, it must have been a monstrous lie that should move it!

I wait some one here. Leave us alone, and disturb us for nought an it were not for crack of doom!

But 'tis impossible; my poets are coming…

Oh ay, for their first meal o' the day!