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Book, page 71 / 155 PALAMON. By heaven and earth, ther's nothing in thee honest. ARCITE. Then Ile leave you: you are a Beast now. PALAMON. As thou makst me, Traytour. ARCITE. Ther's all things needfull, files and shirts, and perfumes: Ile come againe some two howres hence, and bring That that shall quiet all, PALAMON. A Sword and Armour? ARCITE. Feare me not; you are now too fowle; farewell. Get off your Trinkets; you shall want nought. PALAMON. Sir, ha-- ARCITE. Ile heare no more. [Exit.] PALAMON. If he keepe touch, he dies for't. [Exit.]
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