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Politian. Touching those letters, sir,
Your son made mention of--your son, is he not?
Touching those letters, sir, I wot not of them.
If such there be, my friend Baldazzar here--
Baldazzar! ah!--my friend Baldazzar here
Will hand them to Your Grace. I would retire.
Duke. Retire!--So soon?
Came What ho! Benito! Rupert!
His lordship's chambers-show his lordship to them!
His lordship is unwell.
(Enter Benito.)
Ben. This way, my lord! (Exit, followed by Politian.)
Duke. Retire! Unwell!
Bal. So please you, sir. I fear me
'
Tis as you say--his lordship is unwell.
The damp air of the evening-the fatigue
Of a long journey--the--indeed I had better
Follow his lordship. He must be unwell.
I will return anon.
Duke. Return anon!
Now this is very strange! Castiglione!
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