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Aur. (tossing up her arms joyfully as she speaks.) No; it will change to-morrow.

Erm. Dear ardent soul! canst thou command the winds? (Aur. shrinks back ashamed.)

Leg. Blush not, sweet maid; nor check thy ardent thoughts; That gen'rous, buoyant spirit is a power Which in the virtuous mind doth all things conquer. It bears the hero on to arduous deeds: It lifts the saint to heaven. (Curtain drops.)