I sent your grace The parcels and particulars of our grief, The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court, Whereon this Hydra son of war is born; Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm’d asleep With grant of our most just and right desires, And true obedience, of this madness cured, Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
There are no more uses of "scorn" in the play.
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Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
That coach scorns students who don’t have natural ability.