Enter Adelaide.
Adel. Am I not here unwish'd for?
Theod. My best angel!
Were seas between us, thou art still where I am.
I bear thy precious image ever round me,
As pious men the relics they adore.
Scarce durst I hope to be so blest to see thee,
But could not wish a joy beyond thy presence.
Adel. O Theodore! what wondrous turns of fortune