Lor. Peace; no words: I’ll get thy pardon:
Why, mum, then.
Enter Bell’-Imperia.
Bel. Who names Andrea slain? O, ’tis Andrea!
O, I swoon, I die:
Lor. Look to my sister Bell’-Imperia!
And. Raise up, my dear love, Bell’-Imperia!
O, be of comfort, sweet: call in thy spirits;
Andrea lives: O, let not death beguile thee!
Bel. Are you Andrea?