Wynne. If constancy past sacrifice of hope
Is love, I loved her, sire. If to be true
To every wish that rises from her grave
Is love, I love her still. But you, my liege,
Cloud your fidelity, wasting in tears
The moments now devoted by the stars
To rescue one she loved.
Hen. Shame me no more.
We'll give an order here, then to the tower! [Exeunt]