Julia. Right.
Wal. The third side now we come to.
Julia. What shows that?
Wal. The page and princess still. But stands her sire
Between them. Stern he grasps his daughter’s arm,
Whose eyes like fountains play; while through her tears
Her passion shines, as through the fountain drops
The sun! His minions crowd around the page!
They drag him to a dungeon.
Julia. Hapless youth!
Wal. Hapless indeed, that’s twice a captive! heart
And body both in bonds. But that’s the chain,
Which balance cannot weigh, rule measure, touch
Define the texture of, or eye detect,
That’s forgèd by the subtle craft of love!
No need to tell you that he wears it. Such
The cunning of the hand that plied the loom,
You’ve but to mark the straining of his eye,
To feel the coil yourself!
Julia. I feel’t without!
You’ve finished with the third side; now the fourth!
Wal. It brings us to a dungeon, then.
Julia. The page,
The thrall of love, more than the dungeon’s thrall,
Is there?
Wal. He is. He lies in fetters.