And never more will see or hear.
Within the ditch, a fitting bier,
With gaping throat he’s thrown.
Unless
Some sorcerer or sorceress
Revive him he’ll missay no more,
For nothing short of devil’s lore,
Or miracles, through venoms dire,
Again can light in him the fire
Of life: his spite and rage are spent.
The Duenna replies.
The Duenna gives way
In that case gladly I’ll consent13160
To do the thing for which you pray.
But let the swain make no delay,
And if I grant to him access
He must behave with gentleness.
Let him obey my summons then,
The moment I inform him when
The time is come. But nothing he
Must do that would unseemly be
If life and goods he values, nor
Be seen in passing through the door.13170
Let him command. I’ll do his will.
The Four reply.
All that you say will he fulfil,
They cried.
The Author.
Thanks had she from each one,
And thus their work was so far done.
