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Third Senator

We are for law. He dies.

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First Senator
We are for law. He dies. Urge it no more,
On height of our displeasure. Friend or brother,
He forfeits his own blood that spills another.
Must it be so? It must not be.
My lords, I do beseech you, know me.

Is this the balsam that the usuring Senate
Pours into captains’ wounds?
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Act 3
Scene 5
Line 90

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