Sforza. Can any act, though ne’er so loose, that may
Invite or heighten appetite, appear
Immodest or uncomely? Do not move me;
My passions to you are in extremes,
And know no bounds:—come, kiss me.
Marcelia. I obey you.
Sforza. By all the joys of love, she does salute me
As if I were her grandfather! What witch,
With cursèd spells, hath quenched the amorous heat
That lived upon these lips? Tell me, Marcelia,