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ZORADA.

No, no! I pray thee, let us to the Castle.

MAURICE.

I'll follow thee: but, 'faith, I fain would go

And hold some parley with that stranger. Surely
He is no common man.

ZORADA.

I do beseech thee!

MAURICE.

I'll soon return. (Going.)

ZORADA.

O stay, Don Maurice, stay.

MAURICE.

Why? How is this?

ZORADA.

I cannot stir without thee.

MAURICE.

What is the matter, lady? You are pale,

ZORADA.

I've wrench'd my foot: I'm lame; I'm faint with pain.

I pray thee let me lean upon thine arm.

MAURICE.

Ay, to the world's end. Nay, lean thy weight,

And let me bear thee up: thou dost but grasp me
As if to hold me fast. The pain is violent