Fan.Sir, my husband....
Luc. Thou hast the fairest star in heaven to guide thee.
Fan. Let him guide thee.
Luc.I must not hear thee, cousin.
Write down my name ’mong the tyrannicides.
I know I have thy prayers; and to say truth,
I need them: ’tis an anxious time: indeed
While we talk here, a secret messenger
Awaits me: the suspense distracts me. Excuse me!...
Farewell!... I must....