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Look on my face; my name is Othoric; I'm strong, thou see'st, and have a daring soul: Look on my face; my name is Othoric: Think'st thou thou shalt remember me, tho' thou Should'st ne'er again behold me?

I shall, my friend: thou hast a daring countenance.

My deeds shall not belie it. With this crowd I came, a stranger of most desp'rate fortune, And hir'd by treach'rous men to do fell work. But now, unhir'd, I'll do for your brave master A deed that shall make Turkish ears to tingle, And Christian too, or fail it or succeed.

What wilt thou do?

What one arm does, one breast alone needs know.

Heaven aid and prosper then thy secret thought, If it be good and honest! Fare thee well! (Exeunt severally.