ISABELLA
Sir, make me not your story.
LUCIO
It is true. I would not--though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest, Tongue far from heart--play with all virgins so: I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted. By your renouncement an immortal spirit, And to be talk'd with in sincerity, As with a saint.
ISABELLA
You do blaspheme…
