And thaw me to a woman's milkiness.

 Aust. And art thou so unskill'd in nature's language,

   Still to mistrust us? Could our tongues deceive,

   Credit, what ne'er was feign'd, the genuine heart:

   Believe these pangs, these tears of joy and anguish.

 Count. Or true, or false, to me it matters not.

   I see thou hast an interest in his life,

   And by that link I hold thee. Wouldst thou save him,

   Thou know'st already what my soul is set on,

   Teach thy proud heart compliance with my will:

   If not—but now no more.—Hear all, and mark me—

   Keep special guard, that none, but by my order,

   Pass from the castle. By my hopes of heaven,

   His head goes off, who dares to disobey me!

   Farewell!——if he be dear to thee, remember.

 [Exit Count. 

Count

 Aust. If he be dear to me! my vital blood!

   Image of her, my soul delighted in,

   Again she lives in thee! Yes, 'twas that voice,

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