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PHILIP. Whose voice is that?

SAIDA. 'Tis a ragged wench that sings daily under the castle wall.

PHILIP. 'Tis the voice of the weaver's daughter.

SAIDA (to the DEVIL, in a whisper). Turn her away! whip her an' she will not cease her song!

DEVIL (to himself, with a scowl). Aye, for this smacks too much of true love. (He goes out, on the right.)

PHILIP (to GUNTRAN). Guntran, I would speak with the weaver's daughter. Lead me to her.

SAIDA. Nay, she hath returned to her crippledom. Once more is her shoulder humped, her body lean, her skin yellow!

PHILIP (pointing into vacancy). See! she is beautiful!

SAIDA. See! thou canst not see!

PHILIP. Yea — into her soul.

As LAINE's song ceases, the DEVIL returns.

SAIDA. Philip!

PHILIP (to GUNTRAN). Lead me forth, to the weaver's daughter.

PHILIP goes out, on the left, led by GUNTRAN. The Knights and the Standard-bearer follow.

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