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Rh And so be mild, Aurora, with my worst, For his sake, if not mine.’ ‘I own myself Incredulous of confidence like this Availing him or you.’ ‘I, worthy of him? In your sense I am not so—let it pass. And yet I save him if I marry him; Let that pass too.’ ’Pass, pass, we play police Upon my cousin’s life, to indicate What may or may not pass?’ I cried. ‘He knows what’s worthy of him; the choice remains with him; And what he chooses, act or wife, I think I shall not call unworthy, I, for one.’

‘’Tis somewhat rashly said,’ she answered slow. ‘Now let’s talk reason, though we talk of love. Your cousin Romney Leigh’s a monster! there, The word’s out fairly; let me prove the fact. We’ll take, say, that most perfect of antiques, They call the Genius of the Vatican, Which seems too beauteous to endure itself In this mixed world, and fasten it for once Upon the torso of the Drunken Fawn, (Who might limp surely, if he did not dance,) Instead of Buonarroti’s mask: what then? We show the sort of monster Romney is, With gód-like virtue and heroic aims Subjoined to limping possibilities