With my last breath I'll bless her. My spirit, free
From earth's encumbering clogs, shall soar above thee.
Anxious, as once in life, I'll hover round her,
Teach her new courage to sustain this blow,
And guard her, tyrant! from thy cruelty.
Count. Ha! give me way!
Aust. Why, this is madness, youth:
You but inflame the rage you should appease.
Theod. He thinks me vile. 'Tis true, indeed, I seem so:
But, though these humble weeds obscure my outside,