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Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward; Live fucking 24/7! " If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, To murder me? This murderous shaft that's shot Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murder'd | Your skill shall, like a star in the darkest night, |
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.-- Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. | Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, |
- Our royal master's murder'd!