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My life from fatal sickness rescued,—dearly, Full dearly should'st thou pay for such presumption. Let go thy hold.

I will not till thou promise, Before thy vengeful purpose is effected, To see me once again.

I promise then, thou proud and dauntless stranger; For benefits are traced in my remembrance With lines as ineffaceable as wrongs. [Exeunt.

What com'st thou to impart? thy busy face Is full of mingled meaning, grief and gladness.

My Lord Rasinga, madam, is returned,— Return'd victorious; and the fair young bride Again is rescued by his matchless valour.