No keyword-matching excerpt could be extracted (the cluster label doesn't share vocabulary with this character's speech).
Full speech
I am weary, and yet I would have more, my heart Was never more disposed to mirth, Fedella. And I all mounting fire. It's ill we are; This heat our servants should have given us: You wrong our birth and blood, To think they dare neglect us, for if they Forget what we deserve in loving them They owe more duty, as we are the Kings Daughters, than to displease us so. I am of thy mind too, wo'd they were here, I shall be sad again; fie, what a thing it's For two Ladies to be in love, and alone without A man so long. A foolish one, our Governors servant, How now Rodamant? How long hast thou served Archimagus? What wouldst thou do with the Devil? How? I herd thee name love, prithee art thou in love? They are well enough, and thou canst see. How? out? So, and whats her name? A man or a woman. Well said. What of them? What? What said the scritchowle Every character Gives my poor heart a wound. Can this be? I will die with they too then: Sister shall They leave the world without our company? You knew our loves, and all our meetings Sir, They were not without you, nor will we live Without them, tell our father. Did our hearts Flatter themselves with mirth, to be struck dead With this, this murdering news. I'll to the King. That's death. Unless we go along to exile with they. It is prodigious. My most loved Endarius! We must away. When next we meet, pray give me back my heart. Pray speak to us. What does my father mean to do with this Dull thing? he'll never make a courtier. Our father seemed much troubled. And I safe in the arms Of my deer servant. Who's that, Endurius, that kissed me now? I felt a beard. What means my servant? Is not this strange, sister; how came our servants So bloody? Some spirit sure: I cannot contain laughter: what a raw head my servant has? We are lost too for ever, in our honours. Are they gone Fedella? They talk of woman's wit at a dead lift, This was above our brains I love him for't And wish my self I is arms now to reward him, I should find him no ghost a'my conscience: But where shall we meet next.
Plot summary
Plot — 1 Saint Patrick for Ireland
public office. Araspas argues that reason should be the