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My nature is of temp'rature too cold— I pray you pardon me. (Jane's countenance changes.) But take this hand, the token of respect; The token of a will inclin'd to concord; The token of a mind that bears within A sense impressive of the debt it owes you; And cursed be its power, unnerv'd its strength, If e'er again it shall be lifted up To do you any harm.

Rez. Well, be it so, De Monfort, I'm contented; I'll take thy hand since I can have no more. (Carelessly.) I take of worthy men whate'er they give. Their heart I gladly take; if not, their hand; If that too is withheld, a courteous word, Or the civility of placed looks; And, if e'en these are too great favours deem'd, 'Faith, I can set me down contentedly With plain and homely greeting, or, God save ye! By the good light, he makes a jest of it!

''Freb. to Jane.'' Cheer up, my noble friend; all will go well; For friendship is no plant of hasty growth. Tho' planted in esteem's deep-fixed soil, The gradual culture of kind intercourse Must bring it to perfection.