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You will share with me sacrifice and pain. For power, it is an awful thing, and stands Girt by stern duties. Not to thy sweet tears May I yield up one staid and solemn purpose; Once have I pardon'd: but, to pardon twice, Were weakness, and not mercy. He must die!

Castruccio!

Not where my heart has chosen must it find Unrest and womanish complaint; weep, love, Kindly and natural tears; but still remember Lucca has my first duty. Cesario, wait. Farewell, love! within a few short hours We'll meet again; when I shall ask from thee More justice to mine act.[Exit.

It is my hand has slain him; he, my friend, My kind—my only friend. Is there no hope? I did not urge him earnestly enough— I did not tell him he would lose my love Unless he heard my desperate pray'rs for mercy. Oh! never shall I know a quiet hour Again in life, unless Arrezi live; His memory will haunt me like a ghost, Pale and perpetual at my side, with eyes That never turn aside their sad reproach. I'll after him, and wring a slow consent.

Your pardon, lady; do not seek the count,