Char. Too well.
Thy sorrow is a veil through which thy beauty
Burns like a shrouded sun.
Asef. You pity me?
Char. As Heaven knows!
Asef. Then you will help me, sir?
Char. I ’ll give my life to do it!
Asef. Ah, you will?
Then get me access to the Emperor.
Char. O sweet Aseffa, you ask a miracle,
And I am sadly mortal.
Asef. I knew! I knew!
My misery is your plaything!
Char. His ministers
So hedge him with their care—
Asef. O spare excuse!
But I shall see him, sir! Ay, face to face!