[Gives Asander letter.
Asan. (reading) "My Lord, the King
Is dead, asking for thee." Oh, wretched day!
Had I but gone to him, and left this place
Of sorrow ere he died!
Gycia.
My love, my dear!
Thou wilt go hence too late. I would indeed
The law had let thee go. Sorrow like this
Draws parted lives in one, and knits anew