FELICIA (STEM FEL)

He never was acquainted with that passion, He's violent in nothing, — But in love. Should he? were his hand Lift up to strike me, I can charm it there! Who can look on a Ladies bent knees, Wet cheeks, swollen eyes, hear her sighs, her prayers, And yet be cruel: If there be one that can, That one is not Ferrando; his bosom is Passable to every groan; it strikes his heart: He would tell me (when he was absent) If I sigh't, or wept, for then he said He wept and sighed by sympathy. Can he not love himself? here, here I bear him, Himself in a less model, this I'll show him, If he mistrust t'is none of his; let him But rip me up, there he shall see each limb As Like to his, as his one hand, one eye, One cheek is Like the other: beside there lies Folded by his own name, he told me he Would call it so, (Ferrando,) and lest I Should chance forget, I wrote it in my heart, There he will find it.