And spurn in pieces posts of adamant:
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had
[♦]That walked about me every minute while;
55And if I did but stir out of my bed,
[♦]Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.
Enter the Boy with a linstock.
Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you endured,
But we will be revenged sufficiently.
Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
[60]Here, through this grate, I count each one