Dul. You'l find her in the dark.
1 Lady. Your Lady's scarce a bed yet, you must help her.
Asp. Go and be happy in your Ladies love;
May all the wrongs that you have done to me,
Be utterly forgotten in my death.
I'le trouble you no more, yet I will take
A parting kiss, and will not be denied.
You'l come my Lord, and see the Virgins weep
When I am laid in earth, though you your self
Can know no pity: thus I wind my self
Into this willow Garland, and am prouder
That I was once your Love (though now refus'd)
Than to have had another true to me.
So with my prayers I leave you, and must try
Some yet unpractis'd way to grieve and die.
Dul. Come Ladies, will you go? [Exit Aspatia.
Om. Goodnight my Lord.
Amin. Much happiness unto you all.
[Exeunt Ladies.
I did that Lady wrong; methinks I feel
Her grief shoot suddenly through all my veins;
Mine eyes run; this is strange at such a time.
It was the King first mov'd me to't, but he
Has not my will in keeping—why do I
Perplex my self thus? something whispers me,
Go not to bed; my guilt is not so great
As mine own conscience (too sensible)
Would make me think; I only brake a promise,
And 'twas the King that forc't me: timorous flesh,
Why shak'st thou so? away my idle fears.
[Enter Evadne.
Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye
Can blot away the sad remembrance
Of all these things: Oh my Evadne, spare
That tender body, let it not take cold,
The vapours of the night will not fall here.
To bed my Love; Hymen will punish us
For being slack performers of his rites.
Cam'st thou to call me?