Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be
one of my friends.
Duke. Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there's gold.
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Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would
you could make it another.
Duke. O, you give me ill counsel.
Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once,
and let your flesh and blood obey it.
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