Why one by one falls this devoted line,
Accomplishing the dreadful prophecy,
That none should live to enjoy the fruits of blood?
But wave this argument.—Thou wilt be call'd
To prove thy right,
By combat with the Count.
Theod. In arms I'll meet him;
To-morrow, now.—
Aust. And, reeking with his blood,
Offer the hand, which shed it, to his daughter?