Dor. How, horrid, sir? if any else but you Should call it so, indeed, I should be angry.
Prosp. Go to! You are a foolish girl; but answer To what I ask; what thought you when you saw it?
Dor. At first it stared upon me, and seemed wild, And then I trembled; yet it looked so lovely, That when I would have fled away, my feet Seemed fastened to the ground, when it drew near, And with amazement asked to touch my hand; Which, as a ransom for my life, I gave: But when he had it, with a furious gripe He put it to his mouth so eagerly, I was afraid he would have swallowed it.
Prosp. Well, what was his behaviour afterwards?
Dor. He on a sudden grew so tame and gentle, That he became more kind to me than you are; Then, sir, I grew I know not how, and, touching His hand again, my heart did beat so strong, As I lacked breath to answer what he asked.
Prosp. You've been too fond, and I should chide you for it.
Dor. Then send me to that creature to be punished.
Prosp. Poor child! Thy passion, like a lazy ague, Has seized thy blood; instead of striving, thou humourest And feed'st thy languishing disease: Thou fight'st The battles of thy enemy, and 'tis one part of what I threatened thee, not to perceive thy danger.
Dor. Danger, sir? If he would hurt me, yet he knows not how: He hath no claws, nor teeth, nor horns to hurt me, But looks about him like a callow-bird, Just straggling from the nest: Pray trust me, sir, To go to him again.
Prosp. Since you will venture, I charge you bear yourself reservedly to him; Let him not dare to touch your naked hand, But keep at distance from him.