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Rh

Which hath in mercy stricken me, I bow; Y'ea bow, the nobler and the bolder grown For such humility.—(Familiarly) How goes the time? Does day begin to dawn?

Grey light peeps faintly o'er the eastern towers.

The time is then advanc'd; we'll husband it. Of worldly cares, upon my mind there rests But only those which I have mention'd to you. Yet, in this solemn hour, let me remind you:— My poor Elizabeth

Thou'st said enough: She is my child and heiress of my lands To the last rood.—Ah! what avails it now!

How shall a dying man find thanks for this, Whose day is closed? I will attempt no thanks. The other wish that closely presses on me:— Mardonio, upon thee must hang this boon:— That miserable man of whom I've told you; Now living in the hell of his remorse, Cut off from human intercourse; whose horrors