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Which way suspicion leans? The fool is jealous,— Jealous of me! Hath any one besides Harbour'd such foolish fancies?

No, by St. Francis! ne'er a soul besides Hath such a thought conceived, or ever will.

Thou'rt angry: dost thou think my thoughts are evil?

No; evil thoughts thrive not within thy breast, Valiant Rovani; this I know right well: But vain ones there a fatt'ning culture find, And reach a marv'llous growth.

Well, do not chide; I will with scrup'lous honour Fulfil my trust; and do but wish my arms The lady and this castle might defend Against a worthier foe than that light braggart.

But thou know'st well, or ought to know, Rovani, A braggart may be brave. Faith! were it not For some small grains of wit and honest worth Which poor Tortona lacks, thyself and he In natural temper'ment and spirit are So nearly match'd, you might twin nestlings be From the same shell.—Be not so rash, I pray!