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Rh

But I must find our master; where is he?

He was i' th' inner court some minutes since.

Where is that villain whom ye call your lord? Let him appear, and say, why, like a robber,— A reckless, lawless traitor, he hath dared My servants to attack, my bride to capture, And do most foul dishonour to my state. Am I a driv'ling fool,—a nerveless stripling,— A widow'd ranny, propping infants' rights, That thus he reckons with impunity To pour on me such outrage?