CHARLES.
But you are weeping, dear sister?
EMILIA.
Well, I will dry my tears, and cry no more, for I see your tears begin to start.
CHARLES.
Do not on that account restrain them, they will relieve you; but tell me what makes you so sad?
EMILIA.
Why, brother, are you not sick?
CHARLES.
This proof of your sisterly affection raises you in my esteem, but your tenderness ought not to blind your reason; I am not well, it is true, yet there is not the least appearance of danger.