You are the noblest woman in the world;
But my poor love is such a thing to laugh at,
You need not heed it. Now you are alone,
I may indeed give up my life to you
And be your servant.
(The tempest pauses. Silence.)
Theodora. And be your servant.Your sword is clean, you say,
But look upon those startled flowers there,
Those innocent flowers—what smearèd stains of death
Would make them seeming-guilty. What have they done?