BY JAMES S. WALLACE.
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CHAPTER I.
“——I know he doth deserve
As much as may be yielded to a man:
But nature never framed a woman’s heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
Disdain and scorn hide sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on: she cannot love,
Nor take no shape, nor project of affection,