Tho. O Jesu! mistris, what ayles your face?
Nav. Her face!
Ferd. Tis spotted like a Panthers skin.
Pem. O were those spots as kindly beautiful Then were fayre Bellamira undeform'd.
Nav. O what divine power hath sent this Leprosy?
Ferd. Say, beautious Sister.
Pem. Speake, fayre Bellamira.
Nav. My sweet daughter, speake.
Pem. Her silence argues a tormented spirit.
Ferd.—Thy countenance argues a deceitfull soule.