Gal.On my life, it’s true.
See, here’s a handkerchief which still is stained
With her life-blood—I stanched it with my hand.
Myr. Who was his victim?
Gal.Nay—I can not tell.
Her form was strange to me—but here he comes;
Oh, hide me from that wicked murderer!
Enter Leucippe.
Myr. Leucippe, can this dreadful tale be true?
Leuc. (to Gal., aside).