Isid. Will that be a sure sign?
Ord. Beyond suspicion.
Fondly caressing him, her favour'd lover,
(By some base spell he had bewitched her senses.)
She whisper'd such dark fears of me forsooth,
As made this heart pour gall into my veins,
And as she coyly bound it round his neck,
She made him promise silence; and now holds
The secret of the existence of this portrait
Known only to her lover and herself.
But I had traced her, stolen unnotic'd on them,
And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.
Remorse.
[[41]]
Isid. But now, &c. Remorse.
[[44-7]]
om. Remorse.
[[47]]
Isidore. Why—why, my lord! Remorse.
Between [50] and 53