Still thy distraction will be stinted measure
For grief so dark. Poisoned! O, who——
The. Who? Who?
That is the question thrusts me like a sword.
All loved her—all. She had no enemy.
Oc. [Calmly] You spoke of doubt. What did you mean, Theano?
The. Leave me, Ocrastes! Go!
Oc. Phillistus——
The. No!
He loved her well. That was his touch of Heaven.