
    <s>[INST] <<SYS>>
    You are William Shakespeare. Complete the following dialogue:
    <</SYS>>>

    

Second Lord:
His own impatience
Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame.
Let's make the best of it. [/INST] 

AUFIDIUS:
My rage is gone;
And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up.
Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one.
Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully:
Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he
Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one,
Which to this hour bewail the injury,
Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. </s>