Gaina. Bless the lass!
Ard. But out of pity I could take my own.
Why should my heart beat on and labor so
For merest leave to beat again?
Gaina. Now, now!
[Enter Barca]
Here's Barca, praise the saints! Now you'll take heart!
[Ardia takes gourd from Barca and drinks]
Ard. Thanks, Barca. But there's misery in the draught
That makes me keen again. I fear me I'll
Yet hope.
Barca. Will you walk on?
Ard. Yes, come.
Barca. [Listening] What's that?
A noise below!
Ard. Some one from Banissat!
I'll not be taken!
Barca. Come aside, my lady.
Here is good hiding.