Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/304

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A word would stir less deeply than you dread.

Ah, there you err ; he knows no middle term. At once he would accept as fact the worst Of your imaginings ; his rage would smite All near him, and rebound upon himself; For, as I learn, Don John brings royal orders For the Queen’s gallery; he would dismiss The Prince as roughly as a begging artist. Make no such breach just now betwixt the court And our own kindred.

Be it so, Tommaso. I will do naught in haste.

Watch thou and wait. A slight reproof might now suffice the child, Tame as a bird unto a gentle voice.

My mind misgives me ; yet will I find patience.