Cal. No mercy now!
[To guards] To prison with �gisthus!
[Guards lead off �gisthus]
Oc. Dion! Safe?
Dion. [Rising] My wife—and friend—can tell you.
Ask of them.
Oc. [Picking up bandage] My lord, your scarf.
Dion. Let 't be, my son. Let 't be.
I shall not need it any more.