fields over the hills, there is no washing; no pinning
yet, To kiss thou couldst so soon forget! Why on thy neck so anxious do I
feel When formerly a perfect heaven of bliss From thy dear looks and words
would o'er me steal? As thou wouldst stifle me thou then didst kiss! Kiss me!
Or I'll kiss thee! (She embraces him.) Woe! woe! Thy lips are cold, Are
dumb! Thy love where hast thou left? Who hath me of thy love bereft?
Come! Follow me, my dearest love, be bold! I'll cherish thee with ardour
thousand - fold; I but entreat thee now to follow me!
And art thou he? and art thou really he?