Glycine. Halt! that's two questions.

Laska. Pshaw! Is it not as plain as impudence,
That you're in love with this young swaggering beggar, [205]
Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused,
Why pressed you forward? Why did you defend him?

Glycine. Question meet question: that's a woman's privilege,
[[908]] Why, Laska, did you urge Lord Casimir
To make my lady force that promise from me? [210]

Laska. So then, you say, Lady Sarolta, forced you?

Glycine. Could I look up to her dear countenance,
And say her nay? As far back as I wot of
All her commands were gracious, sweet requests.
How could it be then, but that her requests 215
Must needs have sounded to me as commands?
And as for love, had I a score of loves,
I'd keep them all for my dear, kind, good mistress.

Laska. Not one for Bethlen?

Glycine. Oh! that's a different thing.
To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious [220]
To his good old father. But for loving him—
Nay, there, indeed you are mistaken, Laska!
Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him;
For I sigh so deeply when I think of him!
And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes, 225
And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt
That the war-wolf[908:1] had gored him as he hunted
In the haunted forest!

Laska. You dare own all this?
Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.
Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I'll make you [230]
Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odd's, my fingers
Tingle already! [Makes threatening signs.

Glycine (aside). Ha! Bethlen coming this way! [Glycine then cries out.
Oh, save me! save me! Pray don't kill me, Laska!

Enter Bethlen in a Hunting Dress.