Lope. And yet, how easy!
Your beauty being that to which my soul
Ever flies fastest, and most slowly leaves.
Viol. Surely this sudden rapture scarce agrees
With what I heard before.
Lope. How, Violante?
Viol. Have you not haply changed parts in the farce,
And risen from second character to first?
Lope. My second did not please you—come what will,
Casting feign’d speech and character aside,