Gil. Small risk to one
Whom your ill doings have half kill’d already.
Isab. I do not understand you—
Gil. You need not:
I come not to explain, but to avenge;
And, mark my words, what I have come to do,
I’ll do.
Isab. Alas! is it my fault then, brother,
That traitors of their gold can make them wings
To fly into my house?