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LXXVI.

“Alas! what know'st thou of my plighted lord?
If guilt pollute him,—as, unless mine ear
Deceive me in the purport of thy word,
Thou mean'st to imply,—kind spirit, rest not here,

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“But to my father hasten, and make known
The fearful truth. My doom is his command:
Writ in heaven's book, I guard the oath I've sworn,
Unless he will to blot it by thine hand.”