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It shall not be, whatever else may be! As there is blood and manhood in this body, It shall not be! And thou, my gentle sister, Must thy long course of wedded love and honour Come to such end!—Thy noble heart will break, When love and friendly confidence are fled. Thou art not form'd to sit within thy bower Like a dress'd idol in its carved alcove, A thing of silk and gems and cold repose: Thy keen but generous natureShall it be? I 'll sooner to the trampling elephant Nay, nay! I am a madman in my rage. The words of that base varlet may be false. Good Montebesa shall resolve my doubts. Her son confides to her his secret thoughts: To her I'll go, and be relieved from torment, Or know the worst at once.[Exit.