Count. Which you approve not:
So speaks the frowning prelude of your brow.
Aust. Approve not! Did I not protest against it,
With the bold fervour of enkindled zeal,
I were the pander of a love, like incest;
Betrayer of my trust, my function's shame,
And thy eternal soul's worst enemy.
Count. Yet let not zeal, good man, devour thy reason.
Hear first, and then determine. Well you know,
My hope of heirs has perish'd with my son;