Here, by this paper she does write to me,
As if her heart were Mines of Adamant
To all the world besides, but unto me,
A maiden snow that melted with my looks.
Tell me my boy how doth the Princess use thee?
For I shall guess her love to me by that.

_Bell_. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were
Something allied to her; or had preserv'd
Her life three times by my fidelity.
As mothers fond do use their only sons;
As I'de use one, that's left unto my trust,
For whom my life should pay, if he met harm,
So she does use me.

_Phi_. Why, this is wondrous well:
But what kind language does she feed thee with?

_Bell_. Why, she does tell me, she will trust my youth
With all her loving secrets; and does call me
Her pretty servant, bids me weep no more
For leaving you: shee'l see my services
Regarded; and such words of that soft strain,
That I am nearer weeping when she ends
Than ere she spake.

_Phi_. This is much better still.

_Bell_. Are you ill my Lord?