At dangers I despised. Tell me, my Gycia,
Though I am true in love, wouldst thou forgive me
If I were false or seemed false to thy State?
Hast thou no word for me? May I not tell thee
My secret, which so soon all men shall know,
And ask thy pardon for it?
Gycia.
Say on, Asander.
Asan. Know, then, that soldiers sent from Bosphorus
Have long time hid within our palace here—