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Hart. Then with a burgher's plainness, Hughobert, I'll try my tale to tell,—nice task I fear! So that it may not gall a baron's pride. Brave Theobald, the Lord of Falkenstein, Co-burgher also of our ancient city, Whose cause of course is ours, declares himself The suitor of thy ward, the Lady Orra; And learning that within these walls she is, By thine authority, in durance kept, In his behalf I come to set her free; As an oppressed Dame, such service claiming From every gen'rous knight. What is thy answer? Say, am I come in peace? Wilt thou release her?

Hugh. Ah, would I could! In faith thou gall'st me shrewdly.

Hart. I've been inform'd of all that now disturbs you, By one who held me waiting at the gate. Until the maid be found, if 'tis your pleasure, Cease enmity.

Hugh. Then let it cease. A traitor has deceived me, And there he lies. (Pointing to the body of Rud.)

Hart. (looking at the body.) A ghastly smile of fell malignity On his distorted face death has arrested. (Turning again to Hugh.) And has he died, and no confession made?