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33

(225)
'O, what excuse can my invention make, (226)

When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed? (227)

Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake, (228)

Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart bleed? (229)

The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed;
(230)
And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly, (231)

But coward-like with trembling terror die.

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