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I knew it not.—She is a pious dame: She seems—she is a very pious dame.

Nay, speak thy mind! thou need'st not hesitate. We have been fellow-soldiers nine long years: Thou ne'er wert wont to weigh thy words with me. What dost thou think? There is some cause for this.

Women are full of strange and fitful humours.

Not so; it is not that.—Yet, were she false, Methinks her shame-flush'd face would turn aside, Nor look on me so oft and earnestly As I have seen her gaze.—It cannot be! In act she is not false.—But if her heart, Where every kind and dear affection dwelt,— Some cursed agent hath been tamp'ring with her. (Pacing to and fro in violent agitation.)

Be not so wretched for a doubtful ill, Which, if it be at all

A doubtful ill!