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Poh. Our hearts are all ready. The enemy halts, Let the trumpets give the fignal.
Pir our chief demands a parley. * * * Poh. Let him advance.
* * AIR
Mor. Fall on.
- Enter Ducat.
again upon us, after they are run away 2 For my own
out this privilege, we should have fewer good chara&ters
the world than we have,
The soldiers, who by trade must dare