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Words follow thoughts, acts follow words, and all The steps of infamy, from which the mind By nature shrinks, are thus familiar made. A blighting bane, corroding to its core Thou need'st not fear to tell thy thoughts to me; I know thy tender heart, I know thy fears." What brings thee here?

Old Pietro is below, And craves to speak with you.

The irksome fool! He trows that I am always in the humour To hear his prosing proverbs.

He does, my Lord; and oft presuming on it, Has grown familiar.

Art thou his judge?