HENRIQUEZ: A TRAGEDY.
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Had rest like this. (Pressing his temples tightly with both hands.)
How furiously these burning temples throb! Be still! be still! there's more behind to do;
But no more blood: I will not shed her blood.
(Knocking at the door.) Who's there?
VOICE.
HENRIQUEZ.
VOICE (without).
Your grooms are waiting, and your vestments ready.
Will you not please, my Lord, to let them enter?
HENRIQUEZ (to himself).
I had forgot all this. I must appear.
VOICE (without).
HENRIQUEZ.
[Exit hastily into an inner chamber, taking the sword with him.