Beaumont & Fletcher's Works (1 of 10) - the Custom of the Country
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_Rut. _ You are so good and honest I must trust ye, 'Tis but to carry a letter to a LadyThat sav'd my life once. _Dua. _ That will be most thankful, I will do't with all care. _Rut. _ Where are you, white-broth?Now lusty blood, Come in, and tell your mony:'Tis ready here, no threats, nor no orations, Nor prayers now. _Sulp. _ You do not mean to leave me. _Rut. _ I'le live in Hell sooner than here, and cooler. Come quickly come, dispatch, this air's unwho[l]som:Quickly good Lady, quickly to't. _...Sulp. _ Well, since it must be, The next I'le fetter faster sure, and closer. _Rut. _ And pick his bones, as y'have done mine, pox take ye. _Dua. _ At my lodging for a while, you shall be quartered, And there take Physick for your health. _Rut. _ I thank ye, I have found my angel now too, if I can keep him. [_Exeunt omnes. _ _Actus Quintus. Scena Prima. _ _Enter Rutilio and Duarte. _ _Rut. You like the Letter? _Dua. _ Yes, but I must tell youYou tempt a desperate hazard, to solliciteThe mother, (and the grieved one too, 'tis rumor'd)Of him you slew so lately.
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