To bandy idle words, with slaves like thee.
I doubt not thy intent was mischievous;
Booty perhaps, or blood. Till more inquiry
Clear, or condemn him, hold him in your guard.
Give none admittance—Take him from my sight.
Theod. Secure in her integrity, my soul
Casts back thy mean suspicions, and forgives thee.
[Theodore is led out by Attendants.
Count. Away with him!—What means this heaviness?
My heart, that, like a well trimm'd, gallant bark,