The Page who spurr'd us hither,
And now, dismounted from a foaming horse--

(Enter Rosaura)

ROSAURA.
Where is--but where I need no further ask
Where the majestic presence, all in arms,
Mutely proclaims and vindicates himself.

FIFE.
My darling Lady-lord--

ROS.
My own good Fife,
Keep to my side--and silence!--Oh, my Lord,
For the third time behold me here where first
You saw me, by a happy misadventure
Losing my own way here to find it out
For you to follow with these loyal men,
Adding the moment of my little cause
To yours; which, so much mightier as it is,
By a strange chance runs hand in hand with mine;
The self-same foe who now pretends your right,
Withholding mine--that, of itself alone,
I know the royal blood that runs in you
Would vindicate, regardless of your own:
The right of injured innocence; and, more,
Spite of this epicene attire, a woman's;
And of a noble stock I will not name