Lu.Well, well: may heaven forgive us. [Exit.
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Mar. Forgive, she saith. Forgive me rather, oh heaven!
The sourness of my spirit hitherto:
Yet now forgive me not if I dare tamper
With this intrinsic passion. O joy, my joy!
This beauteous world is mine:
All Sicily is mine:
This morning mine. I saw the sun, my slave,
Poising on high his shorn and naked orb