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See, see! the vile Tortonians stand aghast: They turn, they fly! Turn, valiant chieftain! the most gen'rous foe Of dames, whose lords are absent; turn, for shame! Do not disgrace thy noble enterprise With wounds received behind. Whate'er their cause, Tortona's lords have still been soldiers. Turn, Or be the scorn of every beardless boy, Whose heart beats at the sound of warlike coil. Thou canst not fear a man unhelm'd, unmail'd?

No; if a man thou art, I fear thee not!

Well, to it, then, and prove me flesh and blood.

Whate'er thou art, I'll bear thy scorn no longer. [Exeunt, fighting furiously.