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Nay, three successive days have dawn'd upon me Through such a gloom of hopeless misery, That this, comparatively, seems indeed A morn of cheer. Then so consider it. And now, in parting, I would beg of you To pardon whatsoe'er, in my long service, I've done, in ignorance or stubborn will, To prejudice the service of the state, Or to offend your Grace. Once at Cuenca I rashly hazarded some brave men's lives; And, for th' unmeaning triumph of a day, Those brave men's lives were lost. My heart for this Has suffer'd many a pang; but pride till now Restrain'd confession. Pardon me for this.

Thou need'st from me no pardon; yet thou hast it, And with it, too, my thanks,—my solemn thanks. For all the noble service thou hast done me. And is there no request thou hast to make?

Of some brave officers, whose worthy services Deserve promotion: let them, for my sake. Find favour with your Grace. This is my suit.