Thou knewest aught of her; then said her nature
Was such I might not call her friend, or live
With her within four walls; and now, her fault—
Which she herself proclaimed—penning her here
In a close prison, thou my husband comest
To comfort her, 'twould seem—to travel o'er
Again the old foul paths and secretly
To gloat on the old passion.
Asan.
Nay, I came