You must be still. (Great God! She’s woman again!)
Here is my cloak. Come, let us move. (Great God!
What if it thunders?) There, I’ll hold your hands.
I think the thunder comes; but what of that?
Poor rumbling thunder, threats of empty clouds!
I love it, foolish thunder. (She is wild!)
(Thunder.)
Theodora.Away! Help, help! Smite me not black, O Heaven!
Hide in the wood—it is too open here!
Murder!