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Death brings to all. This act so foul, so damned, This he hath done: therefore upon his head Let fall the law's unmitigated justice.

And wherefore doubt'st thou that from such a man I will withhold all grace? Were he my brother I would not pardon him. Produce your criminal. Undo his shackles; he is innocent.

What meaneth this? Produce your criminal.

My royal Master, he is at your feet. A fearful shock! Mine ears are ringing still.