‘Than I, since you in liberty may weep;
‘While I in secret, chided, must pour forth
‘The bitter drops that burn where’er they fall.
‘Remain not here’—we part——
Enter Matilda, hastily.
Matilda.
Begone—with speed!
You’re traced, and to this spot. Your husband comes
With men and torches to arrest him. Hence! [to Foscarini.
Not that way! There they throng the path! This side!