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It shall be done. Oh that a suit of mine Could, in return, move thine obdurate bosom!

What is 't, my gracious Master?

If I have been to thee a gracious Master, Be thou a gracious Liegeman, and restore— Restore to me that honour of my reign, That pride, and fence, and bulwark of my land,— Restore to me again my gallant General, Henriquez d'Altavera.

Alphonso of Castile, I've serv'd thee long,— Yea, though I say it, I have served thee bravely. Have I from fire, or flood, or havoc shrunk? What battle have I lost? what town abandon'd, That now I may not, like a noble Spaniard, My earthly station quit, from insult spared? I've owed you service as my rightful King; I've owed you service as my gracious Master: But not for man on earth, nor saint in heaven, Would I submit a loathed life to live, After the horrid deed that I have done.

My son, my son! where is the Christian meekness