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Give me thy clear, dear hand, my own sweet wife! Yes, I will trust thee, and do thou the while Think charitably of my stern rebuke. Love can be stern as well as tender, yet Be all the while most true and fervent love. But go to rest, dear child, and I will follow thee; Zorada!

What, my Lord?

Forget not, Love, That soothing ointment of such efficacy.

For what, I pray?

Didst thou not wrench thy foot?

O, not at all.

Didst thou not say thou hadst?

O that was but a feint to cheat Don Maurice.

To cheat him! wherefore cheat him? for what end?