[Prithee instruct] me in them, I’ll say any thing,
Do any thing, and suffer all the Wounds
Her Eyes can give.
Euph. Sure he is real. [Aside.
Alas! I am discover’d; how came my Veil off? [She pretends to recover, and wonder that her Veil is off.
Alon. That you have let me see that lovely Face,
May move your Pity, not your Anger, Madam;
Pity the Wounds ’t has made, pity the Slave,
Who till this Moment boasted of his Freedom.
Euph. May I believe all this? for that we easily do in things we wish.