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Henriquez! hear'st thou not, noble Henriquez? Nay, nay! rise from the earth: such frantic grief Doth not become a man, and least of all A man whose firm endurance of misfortune Has hitherto so graced his noble worth. Giv'st thou no answer but these heavy groans? Thou canst not from the tomb recall the dead, But rouse thy spirit to revenge his death.

What said'st thou?

Quit this dismal bed of death, And rouse thee to revenge thy murder'd friend.

He is revenged; Heaven deals with guilt so monstrous: The hand of man is nothing.

Ay, but the hand of man shall add its mite. (Taking hold of his hand to raise him.) Up from the earth! I've found the murderer.

Lay'st thou thy hand on me! What is or is not, The God of heaven doth know, and he alone. Darest thou with mortal breath bestow that name, To the dishonour of a noble house, On one of ancient princely lineage born?