Lope de Vega

“ Celia. Thou knowest, lady, he's well skill'd
In subtlety of herb and poisonous weed,
And hath a fame more wide than all Verona holds.
(Some lines wanting here.)
Julia. He calls Roselo and myself his children.
(Some lines wanting here.)
He watch'd our growing love from earliest bud;
True he is learned in every herb that springs,
And every subtle distillation, too, he knows;
Should this be weak, and should its charm
Lead me to love the Count, and so Roselo harm?
Celia. To think thus, lady, is but witless wit. ”

“ Celia. Didst drink it all, sweet child?
Julia. Each drugged drop, unto the last.
Celia. What feel you now?
Julia. That every vein doth throb and burst,
And every breath comes thick and hard;
A crushing weight doth rest upon my heart;
Oh heavens, Celia!
Celia. Sweet lady!
Julia. Madness now seems to seize my beating brain!
Celia. What treachery's this? Would I had ne'er been born
To be the messenger of ill, sweet girl!
Julia. I would thou'dst brought it earlier. Oh, sweet sleep!
Tell my Roselo not my death to weep.
Celia. Alas! alas! dear lady, I! ”

“ Slow sliding o'er the blood-stain'd grass
Dies Thisbe; and so 'mid lovers holds
The palm for purest love.
For me, nor fire, nor cord, nor poison'd bowl—
One single shock shall free the deathless soul!
Enter Celia.
Celia. With Aurelio, lady, did I speak, and in his hand
Your letter placed.
Julia. He read it?
Celia. He did.
Julia. Scann'd he each word?
Celia. Yes, dear lady ”