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I do not understand fantastic notions And fine-spun niceties of sentiment. I'll comprehend thee better presently.

'T is plain and simple matter. My return, Though from a perilous state, gives to Zorada Slight pleasure: her affections and concern Are all engross'd by what is duty call'd To her unhappy father. I am nothing.

And is this all, indeed, that troubles thee?

Should there be more? Why dost thou smile so strangely?

At thy most simple folly, noble friend. Surely the men in these degenerate days, When every high-plumed youth and idle stripling Hath leave to play his gambols in the sight Of maids and married dames without reproof, And pour bewitching nonsense in their ears At feast or tourney, is most fortunate, Who can but charge a young and lovely wife With too much duteous love for her old father. (Laughing heartily.) I needs must laugh: thou art fantastical.

No; thou art light of heart and canst not judge: