Gal.Remember, sir,
The sculptor who designed you, little thought
That when he prayed the gods to give you life,
He turned a monster loose upon the world!
See, there is blood upon those cruel hands!
Oh touch me not!
Leuc. (aside).Poor crazy little girl!
Why—there’s no cause for fear—I’ll harm thee not—
As for the blood, this will account for it (showing Fawn).
Gal. What’s that?