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Fairly and freely won, than brightest dame That e'er in stately bower or regal hall In graceful beauty shone, gain'd by such wrong— By such base treachery as you have glanced at. These are plain words: then treat me like a man, Who hath been wont the manly truth to speak.

Ha! now thy countenance and tone again Are John of Lorne's. That look, and whispering voice, So strange appear'd, in truth I liked it not. Give me thy hand.—Where is the stranger dame? If she in trouble be

Make these withdraw. And I will lead her hither.

This is the dame, who, houseless and deserted, Seeks shelter here, nor fears to be rejected.