Some half hour hence, in the garden's secret walk,
We shall have leisure.
[Exit.
Selby. Sister, whence come you?
Lucy. From your poor Katherine's chamber, where she droops
In sad presageful thoughts, and sighs, and weeps,
And seems to pray by turns. At times she looks
As she would pour her secret in my bosom—
Then starts, as I have seen her, at the mention
Of some immodest act. At her request,