Theodora. Heaven be thanked, and thou,
For I believe thee! Cappadocia:
Was it not there the blessed Dorothy
Brought apples to her lover, after death,
In token of the riches of that orchard
Where Christ walks with His own? Let us go thither.
Didymus. Ah, muse no more.
Theodora. The Lord abide with thee!
Didymus. Though unto me thy voice be like the foam
Upon a wave of quiet, thy delay