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No, say not so! Is it not far more likely That the delusion rests with thee, my friend?

Ay, if I did but droop, her look of sympathy Went to my soul. Or if I parted from her, Though only for a week—a day

Cease, cease! Be well assured it is not as thou fear'st. Try to compose thyself: what are thy proofs That she has been unfaithful?

No; what a worldly judge would deem unfaithful I trust she has not been; but what avails it? He whom her fancy follows, he who pleases Her secret thoughts and wishes, is her Lord, Let who will, by the power of legal right, Her body hold in thraldom.—Not unfaithful! If I have lost her heart, I've suffer'd all. But thou believest that, ev'n in this, my fears Dost thou not think so? Dost thou not, Don Guzman?