Did innocence and beauty bend before thee,
Hunted, and trembling, wouldst thou tamely pause,
Scanning pale counsel from deliberate fear,
And weigh each possibility of danger?
No; the instinctive nobleness of blood
Would start beyond the reach of such cold scruples,
And instant gratify its generous ardour.
Count. [Aside.] I must know more of this. His phrase, his look,
His steady countenance, raise something here,
Bids me beware of him.—I have no time