Your sleep is not adultery to me,
For you were wed to a girl
And I am a woman.
My lonely days are not whips to my honour.
[She dries her tears with her hair, then fingers the amulet at her throat.]
Yours, friend.
Nubian
[Eagerly.] My amulet! My amulet!
[He speaks gravely.] Small comfort is counsel to broken lives;
But tolerance is medicinal.