Cleon. Nor I.
Cleom. But hear my reasons.—
Enter Cleora, in a black Veil.
Ha, what shadow's this! this, that can glide through walls,
Or pass its subtile limbs through bolts and bars!
Black, too! like what it represents, our fate.
Cleor. Too true a shadow I, and you the substance. [Lifts up her Veil.
Omnes. Cleora!
Cleom. Thus let me grow again to thee,
Too close for fate to sever!