Aur. Wouldst, then, be miserable? 120
Pietro. I need not wish.
Aur. O, yet forbear my hand! away! fly! fly!
O, seek not her that only seeks to die!
Pietro. Poor lovèd soul!
Aur. What, wouldst court misery?
Pietro. Yes.
Aur. She’ll come too soon:—O my grievèd heart!
Pietro. Lady, ha’ done, ha’ done:
Come,[570] let us dance; be once from sorrow free.
Aur. Art a sad man?
Pietro. Yes, sweet.