O the paining in my wound!
Melfort.Come then, I’ll bear you.
Melfort.Come then, I’ll bear you.No, I will not.
What is it I hear?—the accursed frogs
That cry!
That cry!I will not carry you—
Not take you in my arms. I see
Some magic here. Maids crown’d with flowers
But dying wounded are not found.
See now I stand away. For listen!