The graveyard ghosts are not so waste and dead
As is thy phantom picture.
Fer.Dost thou love me?
Al. Why ask me? Yet be this an hour of truth,
Tho’all time lie. I love thee, Ferdinand,
Even as thou lovest me; would be thy wife,
To live alone with thee as Christians use.
Fer. Almeh! Weep not. Fear nothing, if thou art mine.
Al. I am nought that is not thine: only thy hope
I cannot share.