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42

Must lie between us. Ev'n my dying day Will not be lighten'd with one look of thine.

We do not know what Heaven appoints for us.

Has Don Romiero spoken aught to thee Respecting my sad fate?

He has: 'tis true—the horrid tale is true. The King has bound him by the horrid oath Which thou did'st mention to me.—Base compliance!

Nay, blame him not; he took it in the faith That I was safe, beyond the reach of power. But this being so, I needs must rest in hiding Secure and close, till thou canst find a vessel To take me from the coast.

There is within the precincts of this wood An old abandon'd chapel, where the dead Rest undisturbed. No living tenant there, But owlet hooting on the ruin'd tower, Or twitt'ring swallow in his eve-screen'd nest, Will share the dismal shelter: for a time Thou may'st be there secure. My good old Nurse Has all things duly stored for food and rest,