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Ay, this may be; but I am deem'd a slave, A tamed—a woman bound—a simple fool. (After a pause.) Nor did I seek for it; fate was my tempter. That face of beauty was by fate unveil'd; And I must needs forbear to look upon it, Or looking, must forbear to love.—Bold traitor! That he should also, in that very moment, Catch the bright glimpse and dare to be my rival! Fy, fy! His jealous sister set him on. Why is my mind so rack'd and rent with this? Jealous, rebellious, spiteful, as she is, I need not, will not look upon her punishment. Beneath the wat'ry gleam one moment's struggle,— No more but this. (Tossing his arms in agony.) Oh, oh! there was a time, A time but shortly past, when such a thought Had beenthe cords of life had snapt asunder At such a thought.—And it must come to this! (After another perturbed pause.) It needs must be: I'm driven to the brink. What is a woman's life, or any life That poisons his repose for whom it flourish'd? I would have cherish'd, honour'd her, yet she, Rejecting all, has ev'n to this extremity No, no! it is that hateful fiend, her brother, Who for his damn'd desires and my dishonour