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Dead at my feet.—Nay, nay, you must confess
That grim and horrid savage had the power
To lure thee from these fond entwining arms.
I will not look upon it; it will feed
My sickly fancy with another dream.
Giovanni.
Sweet infidel! hast thou so soon forgot
My necromantic spells? or dost thou doubt
The power of the magician?
Helena.
Alas! Giovanni,
Whilst timid apprehension will suggest
A cause for fear, our busy sleeping thoughts
Dwell upon dangers.
Giovanni.
Say, my timid dove,
What dost thou fear?
Helena.
Thou wilt laugh at me;
And that's more painful than thy chiding frown,
