You send him?
Wong Fe
Do you think I will divide his life so that the two halves can bear no fruit? That I will wait until he hates me for that ruin?
Ching (with laughter)
Hates you, oh princess!
Wong Fe
Wait till I must glean in his heart behind a spent passion?—like a poor widow in the track of a grain-cart?
Ching
The coral of your lips will defeat their command, Wong Fe. Near you he is a dry fagot seized by a flame.