Queen. Do; for that's all kindness. And while thou singest it, I can think nothing but what pleases me.
SONG.
_I feed a flame within, which so torments me,
That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:
'Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love if,
That I had rather die, than once remove it.
Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on roses.
Thus, to prevent my love from being cruel,
My heart's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel:
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.
On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me:
To be more happy, I dare not aspire;
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher_.
Queen. Peace!—Methinks I hear the noise Of clashing swords, and clattering arms below.
Enter FLAVIA.
Now; what news, that you press in so rudely?
Fla. Madam, the worst that can be:— Your guards upon the sudden are surprised, Disarmed; some slain; all scattered.