Cipr. Ay, Justina: now no more
Obsequiously sighing at the door
That never open’d, nor the heart of stone
On which so long I vainly broke my own;
But of her soul and body, when and how
I will, I claim the forfeit here and now.
Luc. Enough: the hour is come; do thou design
The earth with circle, pentagram, and trine,
The wandering airs with incantation twine;
While through her sleep-enchanted sense I shake