Ostyn. Hear us, Thy children, and forgive!My friend,
You weep—altho’ we triumph. That must be,
Alas! But wipe this horror from you now,
Nor let it ache for ever, like some despair
Whose secret hamper to the soul we feel
But name not. Wipe it from you—like this blood,
Which thus I purge from off th’ untarnisht steel
Once and for all. Come, we must take the time,
And move. The servants of that evil man
Will seek him. Yonder too another storm,