Thou’st ever spoken of her as of a daughter.
Forgive me, Sala; thy familiarity
And thy years blinded me. If, ere I came
Her heart was thine, and I by pity’s softness
Have stolen the passion that was thine before,
Now by mine honour I will do thy bidding:
If ’tis the only way, I’ll fly to-night.
Thy word, and I will fly. Were ye betrothed?
Sa. Nay, prince ...
Fer.Nay?... Yet if not betrothed, maybe