Olivia [to Lizzia]
Would he not love me still if it were true?
Lizzia [to Olivia]
I am old and wretched and full of woe.
I have known life too long.
Violante [to Olivia]
He whose one cry is beauty! How could that be?
Olivia [almost singing in speech]
Then, God be praised, I need not try him thus!
For God has wrought two miracles with me:
I live, and I am beautiful!
Violante
Unveil your face, then—give yourself to sight.