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I humbly bow, more lowly than ye all, And do, on your behalf, devoutly beg The blessing of our Master and our Sire. Now to those sacred rites of our blest faith, In which the humble soul ennobled bows, In mem'ry of the dearest brothership That ever honour'd man, I lead you on,

So far hath this well-counterfeited signet, And this disguise, befriended us: here stop; Whilst Constantine and his mad band are absent On their religious ceremony, here We will remain conceal'd until that Ella, Returning (for 'tis near her wonted time, As they have told us) from Valeria's chamber, Shall give us fair occasion.—Rouse thee, Marthon;