Her. The cave!
Meg. Those guards are fools—or shy of water.
Her. Sir,
What cave?
Meg. He's there. Your cold, uncandid calm
Has babbled it. The frost is crafty that
Puts out such anxious fire.
Her. My lord, if I
Should tell you....
Meg. Quickly then! How canst debate
So fatally, knowing delay but robs him
Of venture's favor? Every moment steals
A bud of chance.
Her. How will you take him out?
Meg. I'll pass the gates unchallenged. Close without,
My car stands by,—a racer never spent,
And begs no pause. Know he is safe, and sleep.
Night will be secret, and we'll greet the sun
In my Peonia——
Her. Ah, Peonia's far!
Meg. And Vardas near.