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Or day or midnight,—every circumstance Of mortal being will to me be nothing. Not ready yet!—Ha! now I see the light. (Light seen from the window.) Six hours of my brave steed, and if my fears Are then confirm'd—forgive me, noble creature! We'll lay our burdens down and die together.

Haste, tardy creature! art thou sleeping still?

What is your honour's will? O hone! O hone! It is a murky night.

I know it is. Unlock the stable door, and saddle quickly My gallant Oscar. (Thunder again.)

Does your honour hear it?

Hear what?

The thunder growling o'er Benmore: And that was lightning too that flared so fleetly: The welkin's black as pitch.