That I must speak or die.
Enter Francisca.
Franc. What, still with folded Arms and down-cast looks?
Silv. Oh Francisca!
My Brother’s Presence now afflicts me more
Than all my Fears of Cruelty from Cleonte;
She is the best, the sweetest, kindest Sister—
Franc. Ay, Sir, but she will never make the kindest Mistress.
Silv. At least she should permit me to adore her,
Were but Marcel away.