Theo. You help me
To life: but I would see Antonio
That's dead.
Phil. Thou shalt see any thing; how dost thou?
Phil. Why that's well: call up
Thy senses, and uncloud thy cover'd spirits.
How now?
Theo. Recover'd: but Antonio,
Where is he?
Phil. We will find him: art thou well?
Theo. Perfectly well, saving the miss of him;
And I do charge you here, by our allyance,
And by the love which would have been betwixt us,
Knew we no kindred; by that killing fear,
Mingled with twenty thousand hopes and doubts,
Which you may think, plac'd in a Lovers heart,
And in a Virgins too, when she wants help,
To grant me your assistance, to find out
This man alive, or dead; and I will pay you
In service, tears, or prayers, a world of wealth:
But other treasure, I have none: alas!
You men have strong hearts; but we feeble maids
Have tender eyes, which only given be
To blind themselves, crying for what they see.
Phil. Why do'st thou charge me thus? have I been found
Slow to perform, what I could but imagine
Thy wishes were; have I at any time
Tender'd a business of mine own, beyond
A vanity of thine? have I not been
As if I were a sensless creature, made
To serve thee without pow'r of questioning,
If so, why fear'st thou?
Theo. I am satisfied.
Phil. Come; then let's go: where's Leocadia?