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Vict. No more of this—indeed there must no more. A friend's remembrance I will ever bear thee. But see where Isabella this way comes, I had a wish to speak with her alone. Attend us here, for soon will we return, And then take horse again.[

''Bas. (looking after her for some time.)'' See with what graceful steps she moves along, Her lovely form in ev'ry action lovely. If but the wind her ruffl'd garment raise, It twists it into some light pretty fold, Which adds new grace. Or should some small mishap, Some tangling branch, her fair attire derange, What would in others strange, or aukward seem. But lends to her some wild bewitching charm. See, yonder does she raise her lovely arm To pluck the dangling hedge-flow'r as she goes; And now she turns her head, as tho' she view'd The distant landscape; now methinks she walks With doubtful ling'ring steps—will she look back? Ah no! yon thicket hides her from my sight. Bless'd are the eyes that may behold her still, Nor dread that ev'ry look shall be the last! And yet she said she would remember me. I will believe it; Ah! I must believe it, Or be the saddest soul that sees the light! But lo! a messenger, and from the army; He brings me tidings; grant they may be good! Till now I never fear'd what man might utter;