Stunn'd in the inglorious broil; and nought remember,
More than the shame of such a paltry danger.
Where is he?
Aust. Here.
[Theodore advances from the Back of the Stage.
Count. [Starting.] Ha! angels shelter me!
Theod. Why starts he thus?
Count. Are miracles renew'd?
Art thou not ris'n from the mould'ring grave?
And in the awful majesty of death,