Wal. Thou think’st her so? [Aside.] No wonder then should I.
[Aloud.] How say you?—Wondrous fair?
Alice. Yes; wondrous fair!
Harm never come to her! So sweet a thing
’Twere pity were abused!
Wal. You think her fair?
Alice. Ay, marry! Half so fair were more than match
For fairest she e’er saw mine eyes before!
And what a form! A foot and instep there!
Vouchers of symmetry! A little foot
And rising instep, from an ankle arching,
A palm, and that a little one, might span.
Wal. Who taught thee thus?
Alice. Why who, but her, taught thee?
Thy mother!—Heaven rest her!—Thy good mother!
She could read men and women by their hands
And feet!—And here’s a hand!—A fairy palm!
Fingers that taper to the pinky tips,
With nails of rose, like shells of such a hue,
Berimmed with pearl, you pick up on the shore!
Save these the gloss and tint do wear without.
Wal. Why, how thou talk’st!
Alice. Did I not tell thee thus
Thy mother used to talk? Such hand and foot,
She would say, in man or woman vouched for nature
High tempered!—Still for sentiment refined;
Affection tender; apprehension quick—
Degrees beyond the generality!
There is a marriage finger! Curse the hand
Would balk it of a ring!
Wal. She’s quite restored,
Leave us!—Why cast’st thou that uneasy look?
Why linger’st thou? I’m not alone with her.
My honour’s with her too. I would not wrong her.
Alice. And if thou wouldst, thou’rt not thy mother’s son.