[Gondibert approaches, with his Sword drawn.
Gondi. Advance no further.
Marg. Ha! Who art thou, that comest, with murderous look,
Here, in the dusky bosom of the wood,
To intercept our passage?
Gondi. One of those
Who, stript of all, by an oppressing world,
Now make reprisals: if my looks be dark,
They best explain my purpose.