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You are an ill-made, spiteful little creature
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full of envy, lust, and low cunning.
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Men's laws give you the right to bear my name
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and display my colors
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since I cannot prove that you are not mine.
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And to teach me humility, the Gods have condemned me
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to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion
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that was my father's sigil and his father's before him.
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But neither Gods nor men
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will ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock
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into your whorehouse.
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Go, now.