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Let the earth be shaken through its depths, But this must triumph!

Be it as thou wilt. —Unsheath the scimetar![To his Guards.

Away, my chief! This is your place no longer. There are things No human heart, though battle-proof as yours, Unmadden'd may sustain.

Be still! I have now No place on earth but this!

Men! give me way, That I may speak forth once before I die!

The princely boy!—how gallantly his brow Wears its high nature in the face of death!

Father!

My son! my son!—Mine eldest-born!