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A half-corrupted woman's poor device. A half corrupted woman! If it be come to this, who shall restrain The hateful progress, which as rapidly Restrain it! No! to hell's profoundest pit Let it conduct her, if she hath so far Debased her once pure mind, and injured me. I dare not think on 't, yet I am compell'd; And at the very thought a raging fire Burns in my head, my heart, through every vein Of this distracted frame. I'll to the ramparts, And meet the chilness of the midnight wind; I cannot rest beneath this hateful roof. [Exit.

I am the first at our appointed place, Which is beseeming in affairs of love. I hope, meantime, she is upon the way. List, dost thou hear a step?