Hect. Heaven knows I am!
Troil. And can forgive the sallies of my passion?
For I have been to blame, oh! much to blame;
Have said such words, nay, done such actions too,
(Base as I am!) that my awed conscious soul
Sinks in my breast, nor dare I lift an eye
On him I have offended.
Hect. Peace be to thee,
And calmness ever there. I blame thee not:
I know thou lov'st; and what can love not do!
I cast the wild disorderly account,
Of all thy words and deeds, on that mad passion:
I pity thee, indeed I pity thee.
Troil. Do, for I need it: Let me lean my head
Upon thy bosom, all my peace dwells there;
Thou art some god, or much, much more than man!
Hect. Alas, to lose the joys of all thy youth,
One who deserved thy love!
Troil. Did she deserve?
Hect. She did.
Troil. Then sure she was no common creature?
Hect. I said it in my rage; I thought not so.
Troil. That thought has blessed me! But to lose this love,
After long pains, and after short possession!