And many a breathing body must be cold,
Ere you are free.
Em. How came you hither then?
Arth. By Merlin's art, to snatch a short-lived bliss;
To feed my famished love upon your eyes
One moment, and depart.
Em. O moment, worth
Whole ages past, and all that are to come!
Let love-sick Oswald now unpitied mourn;
Let Osmond mutter charms to sprites in vain,