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I fear, my lord, too much I have distress'd you.

Somewhat you have indeed.—And further now I will not press your keen and recent sorrow With questions that so much renew its anguish.

You did, belike, doubt of my tenderness.

O no! I have no doubts.—Within your arms She breath'd her last?

Within my arms she died.

His father was a brave and honest chief!

What says my lord?

A foolish exclamation,