Fran. Oh foolish Innocence— [Aside.
Cleo. You have deceiv’d me, Brother, here’s no Wound.
Silv. Oh take away your Hand—
It does increase my Pain, and wounds me deeper.
Cleo. No, surely, Sir, my Hand is very gentle.
Silv. Therefore it hurts me, Sister; the very thoughts
Of Touches by so soft and fair a Hand,
Playing about my Heart, are not to be indur’d with Life. [Rises in passion.
Cleo. Alas, what means my Brother?
Silv. Can you not guess, fair Sister? have my Eyes