Nurse.—
Aye, surely living, since she is not dead.
Leader.—
Speak, mother: hast thou aught to tell of woe?
Nurse.—
Ye women, I speak only as I know.
She that was dead now lives: gracious of form,
Gentle of face is she; her hands are warm
To my hands holding them; she feels no pain;
Death on her beauty has not left a stain;