But mine must be ador'd with sacrifice.
All hearts turn ashes, which her eyes control:
The body they consume, as well as soul.
Vols. My love has yet a power more divine;
Victims her altars burn not, but refine;
Amidst the flames they ne'er give up the ghost,
But, with her looks, revive still as they roast.
In spite of pain and death they're kept alive;
Her fiery eyes make 'em in fire survive.
Bayes. That is as well, egad, as I can do.