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Be not alarm'd; naught that can injure thee. For if thou hast been privy to their love, Though I might chide thee as a cunning wife, Who from her husband hath a secret kept, The bane of confidence; yet being myself So deep in trespass, I must needs be meek, And say thou art not very, very naughty.

Thy words are wild; I do not comprehend them.

Dost thou not know thy fair but thoughtless friend Has to young Maurice's suit such favour given, That she this morning, short while since, was caught Escaping in his company? I watch'd and stopp'd them in the grove of pines. How glad a sight it was to me, when, wild, With terror wild, she rush'd between our weapons, To find it was but Beatrice.

But Beatrice! whom did'st thou fear to find?

Oh! spare me! Crimson shame upon my cheek, Betrays too plainly that for which already I've craved forgiveness.