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That pale and fearful maid? her watchful ear Is ever turn'd to ev'ry distant sound.

My gentle kinswoman upon the watch! I know for whom she fears; nor do I marvel; For she was present on that crowded shore, When Genoa's captain brought his generous succour, And saw the brave contention of those men, In their proud vessels bearing boldly on, With wavy pennants floating on the wind, Whose armed sides, like to a goodly bank, Breasted the onward tide of opposition. (Speaking with a great deal of appropriate gesture.) No wonder that her fancy has been mov'd! Oh, it did stir the women on our walls— The infants—yea, the very houshold curs, That from their kennels turn'd to look upon it!— But for that motley crowd of moving things Which we miscall our menNay, by the light, Thou too dost hear me with a frozen eye!

Enter hastily from the balcony, and puts her hand eagerly upon the shoulder of, who turns round surprised.)

What sayest thou of him? where fights he now? Or on the land, or on some floating fence?