And Silence best expresses Grief:
But thine’s a saucy Sorrow dares approach
A Face so fair and young.
Hip. If the Ingrate for whom I grieve had thought so, I might have spar’d my Tears. Farewel, Sir.
Mar. Stay, hast thou been a Lover?
Hip. A very, very passionate one.
Mar. And wert thou not belov’d?
Hip. At first, to draw me in, the cunning Artist Made me believe I was.
Mar. Oh! I could kiss thee now, for the alliance
Between thy Grief and mine.