Ire. Heaven defend! my heart would tremble, if they should.
Erg. Why, madam?
Ire. See such impieties as are lodged there in a man, and not be struck with horror! 'tis impossible.
Erg. Your wit doth make you cruel. But, madam, I have something to deliver unto you, which your father commanded no ear should hear but yours.
Ire. What have you there, Cleon?
Cle. Verses, madam.
Ire. Whose?
Cle. Of Lord Ergasto's, written in celebration of the fair Hermione.
Ire. Did he buy them, or found them without a father, and has adopted them for his own?
Cle. They are his own.