Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king, I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, A liberal rewarder of his friends: To royalize his blood I spilt mine own.

I took my turn at the wheel.

As for Grierson, he poured liquor into himself as if it were so much soothing syrup, demonstrating that a good digestion is the highest form of good conscience.

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