Alb. Who's that? ha!
Some gentle hand, I hope, to bring me comfort.
Or if it be my death, 'tis sweetly shadowed.
Amin. Have ye forgot me, Sir?
Alb. My Aminta?
Amin. She Sir,
That walks here up and down an empty shadow,
One, that for some few hours
But wanders here, carrying her own sad Coffin,
Seeking some Desart place to lodge her griefs in.
Alb. Sweet sorrow welcome, welcome noble grief;
How got you this fair liberty to see me?
For sorrows in your shape are strangers to me.
Amin. I come to counsel ye.
Alb. Ye are still more welcome;
For good friends in afflictions give good Councels.
Pray then proceed.
Amin. Pray eat first, ye shew faint;
Here's Wine to refresh ye too.
Alb. I thank ye dear.
Amin. Drink again.