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Jane. And would thy hatred crush the very man Who gave to thee that life he might have ta'en? That life which thou so rashly did'st expose To aim at his! Oh! this is horrible!

De Mon. Ha! thou hast heard it, then? From all the worlds But most of all from thee, I thought it hid.

Jane. I heard a secret whisper, and resolv'd Upon the instant to return to thee. Did'st thou receive my letter?

De Mon. I did! I did! 'twas that which drove me hither. I could not bear to meet thine eye again.

Jane. Alas! that, tempted by a sister's tears, I ever left thy house! these few past months, These absent months, have brought us all this woe. Had I remain'd with thee it had not been. And yet, methinks, it should not move you thus. You dar'd him to the field; both bravely fought; He more adroit disarm'd you; courteously Return'd the forfeit sword, which, so return'd, You did refuse to use against him more; And then, as says report, you parted friends.

De Mon. When he disarm'd this curs'd, this worthless hand Of its most worthless weapon, he but spar'd From dev'lish pride, which now derives a bliss In seeing me thus fetter'd, sham'd, subjected With the vile favour of his poor forbearance; Whilst he securely sits with gibing brow And basely bates me, like a muzzled cur