Her. 'Twas unkindly done to undermine me.
Erg. In her presence I will confirm this to you.
Her. You shall oblige me, since she has wronged me; Irene, hark you.
[They talk in private. After a long whisper,
the Moor strives to go from Phormio; he
holds her.
Phor. In the name of darkness, d'ye think I am not in earnest, that you coy it thus?
Moor. Forbear; uncivil lord. [She goes from him.
Cle. Dost thou not see that all the fire is out of the coal? If thou wouldst have it burn, lay thy lips to the spark that's left, and blow it into flame.
Phor. What wouldst thou have me do?
Cle. Kiss her.
Phor. Not for five hundred crowns.