HOTHER. She’s honour’d.
NANNA. She weepeth!
HOTHER. She’s honour’d.
NANNA. And weepeth.
HOTHER. Ah, then his fame cheereth
His bride in her thrall.
BOTH. Ah then his fame cheereth
His bride in her thrall.
NANNA. Ah, if thou now fallest?
HOTHER. And if I now fall?
NANNA. Then I shall be wasted
By ne’er-ceasing smart.
HOTHER. But were my fame blasted
Then break would thy heart.