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Bid your wanderer Safe with his aged mother still remain,— A banish'd man no more.

This is not well: but be it as thou wilt; Thou hast prevail'd, my Helen.

We thank thee, lady. (Benlora bows slightly, in sullen silence.)

Then let thy friend remain; he has my pardon. (Benlora bows again in silence.) Clear up thy brow, Benlora; he is pardon'd. (Pauses, but Benlora is still silent.) We trust to meet you shortly in the hall; And there, my friends, shall think our happy feast More happy for your presence.— (Going up again, with anxious courtesy, to Benlora.) Thy past services, Which great and many are, my brave Benlora, Shall be remember'd well. Thou hast my honour, And high regard.