With rude and heavy Hands:
Yours, fair Cleonte, can apply the Balsam
Far more successfully,
For they are soft and white as [Down of Swans],
And every Touch is sovereign.
Cleo. But I shall die with looking on your Wounds.
Silv. And I shall die unless you cure them, Sister.
Cleo. With the expence of mine to save your Life,
Is both my Wish and Duty.
Silv. I thank you, pretty Innocence. [Leads him in.