No: for joy grows elsewhere scant.
SABRINA.
I would fain see the towers of Troynovant.
LOCRINE.
God keep thine eyes fulfilled with sweeter sights,
And this one from them ever!
SABRINA.
Why? Men say
Thine halls are full of guests, princes and knights,
And lordly musters of superb array;
Why are we thence alone, and alway?
ESTRILD.
Peace,
Child: let thy babble change its note, or cease
Here; is thy sire not wiser—by God’s grace—
Than I or thou?
LOCRINE.