Your body ’twixt my bosom and her knife,
Your lips on the cup she proffered for my death;
Your one cloak over me, that night in the snows,
We held the Pass at Bargi. Every hour
New strengths, to this most unbelievable last.
“Honour him?” I will honour—will honour you—....
’Tis at your choice.
Gow.
Child, mine was long ago.
(Enter Ferdinand, as from horse.)