Enter DUKE and FRIAR THOMAS |
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DUKE.
No; holy father, throw away that thought;
Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee
To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
Of burning youth.
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FRIAR THOMAS.
May your Grace speak of it?
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DUKE.
My holy sir, none better knows than you
How I have ever loved the life removed,
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies
Where youth, and cost, witless bravery keeps.
I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo
(A man of stricture and firm abstinence)
My absolute power and place here in Vienna,
And he supposes me travell'd to Poland
(For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,
And so it is receiv'd). Now, pious sir,
You will demand of me why I do this.
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