Cypr. God bless me from loving any of you, if all be so cruel.
Agrip. God bless me from suffering you to love me, if you be not so formable.
Cypr. Will you command me any service, as you have done Orleans?
Agrip. No other service but this, that, as Orleans, you love me, for no other reason, but that I may torment you.
Cypr. I will: conditionally, that in all company I may call you my tormentor.
Agrip. You shall: conditionally, that you never beg for mercy. Come, my Lord of Galloway.
Gall. Come, sweet madam.
[Exeunt all except the Prince of Cyprus.
Cypr. The ruby-coloured portals of her speech
Were closed by mercy: but upon her eye,
Attired in frowns, sat murdering cruelty.