Porzia.
No, no, Rizzio!... no!... what are you saying!
[Restrainingly.
Will you requite injustice with a worse?
[To Querio, who is unmoved.
Monsignor, this in truth is hunting haste,
To search him out
Upon his wedding-day,
And bind him with the very wreaths of it!
Could you not wait an eve, a night, until