This cuirass fits me well, the baldric better,

And the helm not at all. Methinks I seem

[Flings away the helmet after trying it again.

Passing well in these toys; and now to prove them.

Altada! Where's Altada?

Sfe.‍Waiting, Sire,

Without: he has your shield in readiness.

Sar. True—I forgot—he is my shield-bearer

By right of blood, derived from age to age.

Myrrha, embrace me;—yet once more—once more—170