Hor. Whither in such haste, my second self?
And. I’faith, my dear bosom, to take solemn leave
Of a most weeping creature.
Hor. That’s a woman.
Enter Bell’-Imperia.
And. That’s Bell’-Imperia.
Hor. See, see, she meets you here:
And what is it to love, and be lov’d dear!
Bel. I have heard of your honour, gentle breast,
I do not like it now so well, methinks.