O villainous! I dare not think of it!
That he would poison one so dear to you——
The. Man, man, care for your soul! There is no stain
So black as when the gall of calumny
Breaks on the snow of virtue! You must rate
Your precious life at naught. Ocrastes, sir,
Will have your slanderous heart for this!
Phil. He may,
If 'tis your wish. You heard her cry his name
As though she saw her murderer.