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Think'st thou the ravings of a frenzied mind
Have power to move me?

SOPHERA.

I only thought—I fear'd—you wisely judge;

Why should they move you? Well, the dismal story
Of that most dismal murder, here committed
By hands unknown, might to a sickly brain
Such thoughts create of nothing.

COUNTESS.

What say'st thou? here committed!

SOPHERA.

Did not your hapless brother in this castle

Come to his end?

COUNTESS.

Yes, but a natural end.

SOPHERA.

So grant it were, it is not so reported.

COUNTESS.

Ha! what is else reported?

SOPHERA.

The peasants round, all idle stories credit;

And say that in his castle, by his servants,
He was discover'd in the eastern tower
Murder'd. But, doubtless, 'tis a tale of falsehood,
Since 'tis to thee unknown.