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Scene VI.

Outside the Louvre.
Enter Denise.
Den.
I cannot find a man; the cries are thick;

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I come too late. Alas, I fear the king
Hath put the order forward; I may see him
And so prevent some peril; and though they slay me,
I die of my misdoing. Yet I fear death
Most piteously, wear passion on my cheek
White as a coward's. I'll yet forth and look;
For in the temper of this bloody time
Must sleep my help or end; I may discover him
And that may be some grace; now God be good,
Or I am so far bruised this way, as death
Can bite no sharper.

[Exit.