FEDELLA

Mine is as light as yours, Sister, I am All air, me thinks. It's well we are alone. I wonder we cannot see they, they were not Since we first took them to our favour, guilty Of such neglect. That binds: But form and heartless ceremony, Sister By your favour, I had rather hold my servant By his own love, that chains his heart to mine, Than all the bans of state. Here's one. What, is the fellow conjuring? A Devil? Physic for what? art sick? Why that's nothing. Are these signs of love? Not we. To the purpose. What means the fellow? We hope Archimagus brings better news. And yet his face is cast into a form of sorrow. What are these? Alas, how much of mischief is contained In this poor narrow paper. They must not, shall not die so. Could not you bend the King our cruel father? You should have said, we loved them; you have most Power to prevail with him; you should have told him, The gods would be offended, and revenge their death With some strange curse upon this Island. O, I could dwell upon his lips to thank him. Farewell. His very looks have turned my blood already. No misery can happen, while I thus Embrace Ferochus. What's that? Is not this Delight enough, that we converse, and smile And kiss, Ferochus. Who's that? I felt another lip. What's the matter? We have troubled f oles sure, here's no body But our selves; the doors, you say, are safe. I dare not understand you. What blood is that upon your face? Mine has the same complexion. Let us away. Most quaintly. Welcome To thy Fedella.