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 Seeks for a place to strike him, it may be He holds the thread that makes your arm to move. So tremble, Ormond. Ormond. Leave me, good my lord. I kiss your lordship's hand. [Exit ; the door closes behind him.

2.— [alone.

Let's think no more on 't.


 * A soldier, stern-faced wight,
 * A page detains one night,
 * A page of roguish bearing.
 * "My bonny page, beware!
 * Whither so early faring,
 * When the streets deserted are,
 * Your satin doublet wearing?"


 * "Beneath my cloak I bear
 * A long sword and guitar;
 * And a tryst to keep I'm out, sir.
 * I many a rebel tame,
 * And many a husband flout, sir;
 * My guitar is for the dame,
 * And my sword for the jealous lout, sir."