Hæmon: This maid who called, did she come idly here?
You stir? you rouse?
Charles: A coldness runs in me.
Hæmon: And have not I come strangely on the hour!
Charles: It 'gins to burn!
Hæmon: Not entered a strange way?
Charles: You pause and ever pause upon my patience.
'Twill heave unbearably!
Hæmon: Then hear me, hear!—
Senseless against a bank I found a boy,
Hurled by some ruthless hoof. Near him this key
And writing——
Charles: Tell it!
Hæmon: That avows, mid lines
Clandestine of purport, Antonio
And Helena, under these shades at twelve——
Charles: You bring on me a furious desolation.
But Fulvia, ah, she——