Ard. No.
Gaina. Say you were, 'twere a better sight than this fetching of dry sighs. They 'most take the skin of a woe that a little tear-water would bring up easy enough.
Ard. O, Gaina, Gaina, did you see my mother buried?
Gaina. Ay, 'twas a sweet grave we laid her in over in Corinth. You'll never make as pretty a corpse, my dear.
Ard. Was I there?
Gaina. Troth, you were, and trouble enough you gave me. You wanted to climb into the coffin and go to sleep too, you said.
Ard. O, had you buried me with her I should not have seen this day!
Gaina. Most like you wouldn't. Come, honey dove, come to your room and brighten yourself a bit. There's the new veil just begging to be looked at. I'll put it on you, and——
Ard. No, I don't want you. [Going, right]
Gaina. O, ho, I can read his name you do want, and not kill a bird for it either.