My story being done, she gave me for my pains a world of sights. She swore, in faith 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange, 'twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful; she wished she had not heard it, yet she wished that heaven had made her such a man. she thanked me, and bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, and that would woo her.
Upon this hint I spake: she loved me for the dangers I had passed, and I loved her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario