Mirimond. No, wait! Our part is yet undone.
Here hangs
A withered garland.
Alenia. Here another. See!
And there! Well, we are slack.
Eudora. Who would not be?
We've cause for sleepy wits and fingers too,
With seven days and nights of revelling.
Garla. And Charilus warm in 's grave.
Myrana. He'll be no colder
Let come a hundred months. Ten years, ten days,
'Tis all the same i' the ground.
Daphne. And yet, I think
The daughter smiles too soon.
Mylitta. Troth, I would smile
For such a lord if all the world beside
Were wrapped in shroud.
Mirimond. I would the English knights
Were come! Full fifty, Barca said, would ride
From Suli.
Mylitta. I know you, chit. Your eyes will find
Their way.
Mirimond. Mayhap not all of us will take
The homeward ship for Corinth. Did we think
When we set sail we'd come in time to see
Our Ardia married?