Millions are now in graves, which at last day
Like mandrakes shall rise shreeking.
Webster, The White Devil, V. vi. 64.
On the other hand the lover most often groans:
Thy face hath not the power to make love grone.
Shakespeare, Sonnets, 131. 6.
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groane.
Shakespeare, Sonnets, 133. 1.
Ros. I would be glad to see it. (i.e. his heart)
Bir. I would you heard it groan.