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Br. Strange, strange indeed. I have heard it said that murder
Falls on itself: that in the guilty breast
The implacable crime ploughs up with rooting tusk
The bleeding strings of nature: and in this woman
Of no remorse hath fated vengeance stirred
Her heart to hate her son. O, I did wrong
Yielding a little. Yet, since Burrus loves me,
That he should rule my fate is my best safety.
For her, if she’s my foe, he may work on her.—