Will you live and wed dishonour?
Aym. (covering his face.) Let the grave
Take me and cover me! I must go down
To its rest without my sword!
Rai. There’s some dark spell upon him! Aymer, brother!
Let me not die of shame! He that died so
Turn’d sickening from the sun!
Aym. Where should I turn?
[Going up abruptly to the knights.
Herman—Du Mornay! ye have stood with me