Theod. Less than I should be; more than what I seem.

 Count. Hence with this saucy ambiguity.

  What is thy name, thy country? That mean habit,

  Which should teach humbleness, speaks thy condition.

 Theod. My name is Theodore, my country, France,

  My habit little suited to my mind,

  Less to my birth, yet fit for my condition.

 Count. O, thou art then, some young adventurer,

  Some roving knight, a hero in disguise,

  Who, scorning forms of vulgar ceremony,

  No leave obtain'd, waiting no invitation,

  Enters our castles, wanders o'er our halls,

  To succour dames distress'd, or pilfer gold.

 Theod. There is a source of reverence for thee here,

  Forbids me, though provok'd, retort thy taunts.

[pg 13]

[pg 13]

 Count. If I endure this more, I shall grow vile

   Even to my hinds——

 Theod. Hold, let me stop thy wrath.

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