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Naught lies with me! With thee, with thee there lies,

I warrant, what thou ne’er hast seen nor guessed.

How can I hear such talk?—he maketh jest

Of the land’s woe—and keep mine anger dumb?

Howe’er I hold it back, ’twill come, ’twill come.

The more shouldst thou declare it to thy King.

I speak no more. For thee, if passioning

Doth comfort thee, on, passion to thy fill!

[He moves to go.

’Fore God, I am in wrath; and speak I will,

Nor stint what I see clear. ’Twas thou, ’twas thou,

Didst plan this murder; aye, and, save the blow,

Wrought it.—I know thou art blind; else I could swear

Thou, and thou only, art the murderer.

So?—I command thee by thine own word’s power,

To stand accurst, and never from this hour