Enter Eustache de St. Pierre.
Eust. Where's thy commander, boy—Count Ribaumont?
La Gloire. O father!——
Eust. Peace!—I must a word with him.
I have a few short thanks I would deliver,
Touching his care of thee: it is the last
Of all my worldly packages; that done,
I may set forward on my journey.
La Gloire. Oh, father! I shall never go to bed again in peace as long as I live. Sorrow will keep my eyes open half the night; and when I drop into a doze at day-break, I shall be hanged with you, father, a score of times every morning.