Rush'd on her chariot, near the wood of Zart,
Was he the unknown youth, who succour'd her
All good betide him for it.
Jaq. Yes, 'twas he.
From one tame wretch he snatch'd a half-drawn sword,
And dealt swift vengeance on the ruffian crew.
Two, at his feet stretch'd dead, the rest, amaz'd,
Fled, muttering curses, while he bore her back,
Unhurt, but by her fears.
Fab. He should be worshipp'd,