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- Not out of doors? - She shall, she shall.
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Indeed, no, by your patience.
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I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars.
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Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably.
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- I cannot go hither. - O you would be another Penelope.
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Yet they say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence
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did but fill Ithaca full of moths.
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No, good sir. Pardon me. Indeed, I will not forth.
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Go with me, and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband.
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No, good sir, there can be none yet.
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- There came news from him last night. - Indeed?
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Your lord and Titus Lartius are