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And he who lingers yonder 'midst the bushes, Is one we found at sea, some leagues from shore. We know not what he is.

Why keeps he thus aloof? Call to him, friend.

Ho! there; come this way, sir; the lady calls ye.

He has a noble air, though coarsely clad. How is it that he moves so tardily?

He's wayward, lady; neither moves nor speaks Like other men.

Nay, do not speak so harshly Of one so circumstanced; your fellow-sufferer. Good stranger, be assured you're welcome here, And be not so desponding. (He bows in silence, and she seems agitated.) (To the Mariners, &c.) Pass on, my friends; this lady will conduct you. Wilt thou, my Beatrice, do this kind office? And I will follow shortly. Tell my people To serve these shipwrecked strangers bountifully.

God bless your liberal heart, my noble lady! [Exeunt all but. and.