Prince. Rememberest not the lady whom we saw
For a few minutes, like some lovely vision,
In this same house a little while ago,
Not Porcia, but her diviner guest?
Cel. Oh, I remember; is it then to be
The speciality of your Highness’ love,
That, whereas other men’s dies off by absence,
Yours quickens—if it can be love at all
Caught from one transitory glance?
Prince. Nay, Celio;