Sorrows and anger? Madam--but I forget--go on.
ORSINA.
Should she even be your only daughter--your only child--but it matters not. An unfortunate child is ever an only one.
ODOARDO.
Unfortunate?--Madam! But why do I attend to her? And yet, by Heaven, no lunatic speaks thus.
ORSINA.
Lunatic? That, then, was the secret which he told you of me. Well, well. It is perhaps not one of his greatest falsehoods. I feel that I am something like one; and believe me, sir, they who, under certain circumstances, do not lose their intellect, have none to lose.
ODOARDO.
What must I think?