Once more thy hand.

 Aust. My daily task has been,

   So to subdue the frailties we inherit,

   That my fair estimation might go forth,

   Nothing for pride, but to an end more righteous:

   For, not the solemn trappings of our state,

   Tiaras, mitres, nor the pontiff's robe,

   Can give such grave authority to priesthood,

   As one good deed of grace and charity.

 Count. We deem none worthier. But to thy errand!

 Aust. I come commission'd from fair Isabel.

 Count. To me, or to the Countess?

 Aust. Thus, to both.

[pg 26]

[pg 26]

   For your fair courtesy, and entertainment,

   She rests your thankful debtor. You, dear lady,

   And her sweet friend, the gentle Adelaide,

   Have such a holy place in all her thoughts,

   That 'twere irreverence to waste her sense

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