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John Fords Tis Pity Shes a Whore-1
gods.

    For pitys sake, I beg you!

    [She kneels.]

    Annabella: On my knees,

    Brot, I charge you

    Do not betray me to your mirte.

    Love me, or kill me, brother.

    [he kneels.]

    Giovanni: On my knees,

    Sister, even by our mot, I charge you

    Do not betray me to your mirte.

    Love me, or kill me, sister.

    EXtERIOR. FARMhOUSE PORCh. DAY

    Upset er-tub, spilling over discarded petticoat.

    Empty rocking-chair, rocking, rocking.

    It is t mysterious to me. te. I imagine e or ype, urns tiful oils and ss. s of tinguis;; of sucook root, so  il now.

    And I imagine elligence nouris dense oil  live in Eden and of ture of t.

    For surely it cannot be this bliss? ho could forbid such bliss!

    as it bliss for oo? Or ? quot;Look after your sister.quot; But it was ser  as she fed him.

    Giovanni: I am lost forever.

    Lost in tes, ake off  s see o touco it than farmyard ways.

    INtERIOR. MINIStERS hOUSE. DAY

    Dinner-table. Ministers  for her husband and her son.

    MINIStERS IFE: taint rig aint rig there, growing up like savages, never seeing nobody.

    MINIStERS SON: Serribly pretty, Mama.

    ters er turn to look at t comprehensively.

    t tless. o ary, once-monts took a c togetc made in t;log cabinquot; pattern by time toget came out of t telling o put t out, singuisactility of the dark.

    Sy of defloration. According to ers  girl. And yet t seem to urne
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