Ay, child; his heart was less care’s throne than joy’s,
Power’s less than love’s friend ever: and with thee
His mood that plays is blither than a boy’s.
SABRINA.
I would the boy would give the maid her will.
ESTRILD.
Has not thine heart as mine has here its fill?
SABRINA.
So have our hearts while sleeping—till they wake.
ESTRILD.
Too soon is this for waking: sleep thou still.
SABRINA.