And. ’Tis fixed upon my heart; adieu, soul’s friend!
Hor. All honour on Andrea’s steps attend.
Bel. Yet he is in sight, and yet but now he’s vanished.
[Exit Andrea.
Hor. Nay, lady, if you stoop so much to passion,
I’ll call him back again.
Bel. O good Horatio, no; it is for honour.
Pr’y-thee, let him go.
Hor. Then, madam, be composed, as you were wont,
To music and delight; the time being comic, will