Count. Heaven defend me!
I hope it will, and this right arm to boot.
But, hark! I hear a noise.—Perhaps my people
Have found the fugitive.—Haste! bid them enter.
[Exit Fabian.
She eyed me with abhorrence; at the sound
Of love—of marriage, fled indignant from me.
Yet must I win her: should she meet my wish,
Godfrey would prop the right he strives to shake,