Will be a yard of steel between thy ribs,
And thou shalt have it!
Mous.Thank you kindly, sir!
[Exit Mousta; Florian sits dejectedly by fountain.
Hil. ’Twas he that spake to me! How can I doubt?
Are there two such as he? Oh, Heaven, is this
The senseless herald of a mind unstrung?
Let me be sure.
He spake of me, who long had mourned him dead—
He told how, shrouded from my gaze last night,