To bandy idle words, with slaves like thee.

   I doubt not thy intent was mischievous;

   Booty perhaps, or blood. Till more inquiry

   Clear, or condemn him, hold him in your guard.

   Give none admittance—Take him from my sight.

 Theod. Secure in her integrity, my soul

   Casts back thy mean suspicions, and forgives thee.

 [Theodore is led out by Attendants. 

Theodore

Attendants

 Count. Away with him!—What means this heaviness?

   My heart, that, like a well trimm'd, gallant bark,

   Was wont to mount the waves, and dash them off

[pg 15]

[pg 15]

   In ineffectual foam, now seems to crack,

   And let in each assailing tide to sink me.

   I must not yield to this dull lethargy.

   Good Fabian, hie thee to Saint Nicholas';

   Bid holy Austin straight repair to me.

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