Countess. Too long, alas! it has weigh'd upon my heart;
A thousand times I have thought to tell thee all;
But my tongue falter'd, and refus'd to wound thee.
Count. Distract me not, but speak.
Countess. I must. Your father
Was wise, brave, politic; but mad ambition,
(Heaven pardon him!) it prompts to desperate deeds.
Count. I scarce can breathe. Pr'ythee be quick, and ease me.
Countess. Your absence on the Italian embassy