Let me see Loys!

Loys. [Without.] Djabal!

An. [Aside.] 'Tis his voice.

The smooth Frank trifler with our people's wrongs,

The self-complacent boy-inquirer, loud

On this and that inflicted tyranny,

—Aught serving to parade an ignorance

Of how wrong feels, inflicted! Let me close

With what I viewed at distance: let myself

Probe this delusion to the core!