(Exit Touchwood junior.)
O were I made of wishes, I went with thee![45]
Could any description or analysis by the author or another character paint as perfectly as does the action of the following lines the wistful grief of the child pining for his mother?
Enter Giovanni, Count Lodovico.
Francisco. How now, my noble cossin! what, in blacke?
Giovanni. Yes, unckle, I was taught to imitate you
In vertue, and you must imitate mee
In coloures of your garments: my sweete mother
Fran. How? where?