I rul'd this province, was the unquestion'd lord
Of this strong castle, and its wide domains,
Stretch'd beyond sight around me; and but now,
The axe, perhaps, is sharp'ning, may hew down
My perish'd trunk, and give the soil I sprung from,
To cherish my proud kinsman Godfrey's roots.
Countess. Heaven guard thy life! His dreadful summons reach'd me.
This urg'd me hither. On my knees I beg,
(And I have mighty reasons for my prayer)
O do not meet him on this argument: