Antonio: Go, then, Fulvia.
'Tis one would speak with me.
Fulvia: Ah? (She goes.)
Enter Helena frightedly with Paula.
Helena: Antonio!
Antonio: My Helena, what is it? You are wan
And tremble as a blossom quick with fear
Of shattering. What is it? Speak.
Helena: Not true!
O, 'tis not true!
Antonio: What have you chanced upon?
Helena: Say no to me, say no, and no again!
Antonio: Say no, and no?
Helena: Yes; I am reeling, wrung,
With one glance o'er the precipice of ill!
Say his incanted prophecies spring from
No power that's more than frenzied fantasy!