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Amongst the mighty great, the earth's high lords, There is no place for me! I must lie down In the dark tomb with those, whose passing brightness Shines for a while, but leaves no ray behind. Boy. My Lord, my Lord! (Ethw. lifts up his head and looks sternly at him.) Are you unwell, my Lord?

Ethw. What dost thou want?

Boy. I could not sleep; and as I list'ning lay To the drear wind that whistles thro' these towers, Methought I heard you groan like one in pain.

Ethw. Away, and go to sleep: I want thee not: I say, be gone, (sternly.)(Exit Boy. (he pauses awhile, then sighs very deeply.) He hangs upon me like a dead man's grasp On the wreck'd swimmer's neck—his boyish love Was not my seeking; it was fasten'd on me, And now it hath become an iron band To fetter down my powers. O that I were Amidst the warlike and ungentle cast To strive uncumber'd! What have I to do With soft affection? (soften'd) Yet it needs must be! His gen'rous love: his brave ungrudging love: His manly gentle love—O that he had Mine equal friend been born, who in my rise Had fair advancement found, and by my side The next in honour stood!