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Rh



The blest in love,—the rich, the prosperous Garcio?

He hath since dead of night traversed his chamber Like one distraught, or cast him on the ground In all the frantic violence of despair. I have watch'd by him, but from thee alone He will hear words of counsel or of peace. Thy voice, perhaps, will calm a stormy spirit That ne'er has known control.

God grant it may! We'll lose no time, my son; I follow thee. [Exeunt.

 

Their conference is long. The gentle Hermit Has had, I fear, no easy task.—He comes! 