Thou hast perverted nature in them.
There’s not a blessing Heaven vouchsafes[506] them but
The thought of thee doth wither to a curse.
Ges. That’s right! I’d have them like their hills,
That never smile, though wanton summer tempt
Them e’er so much.
Tell. But they do sometimes smile.
Ges. Ay?—when is that?
Tell. When they do talk of vengeance.[507]
Ges. Vengeance! Dare they talk of that?