Helena (recovering): A waste of waves that beat
Upon a cliff—and beat! Yet thou and I
Had place in it.
Antonio: Come to yon arbour, come.
The moon has looked too long on the sad earth,
And can reflect but sorrow.
Helena: Ah, I fear!
(They go clinging passionately together.
Enter Charles and Cecco.
Charles: And yet it is a little thing to sleep—
Just to lie down and sleep. A child may do it.
Cecco: If my lord would, here's sleep for him wrapped in
A quiet powder.
Charles: Sleep is ever mate
Of peace and should go with it. I have slept
In the wild arms of battle when the winds
Of souls departing fearfully shook by,
And on the breast of dizzy danger cradled
Softly been lulled. Potions should be for them
Who wrestle and are thrown by misery.
Cecco: And is my lord at peace?
Charles: Strangely.—Yet seem
For sleep too coldly calm.
Cecco: So were you, sir—
I keep your words lest you may need of them—
On the same night young Hæmon's father went
The secret way to death.