But for a moment I may see who speaks
So pitifully sweet.
Fife. Take care! take care!
Ros. Alas, poor man, that I, myself so helpless,
Could better help you than by barren pity,
And my poor presence—
Seg. Oh, might that be all!
But that—a few poor moments—and, alas!
The very bliss of having, and the dread
Of losing, under such a penalty