Her. A sister to the man
That I gave up to death. And I have dared
To love her—take her kiss——
Meg. [Cautioning] She's here.
[Enter, lower right, Señora Ziralay and Guildamour]
Her. Señora!
We spoke of you.
Señ. And with such gloom?
Meg. No, no!
Señ. It lingers yet, my lord. Do I in absence cast
Such knitted shadows?
Meg. Safely asked of us,
Who know your bright philosophy. How fares
That magic broom with which you'd sweep the earth
Of every ill? Is 't still invincible?
Señ. Much worn of late, my lord, as you should know,
Who give it work.
Meg. You'd leave us not one grief
To keep us praying and rebuilding Heaven?
Abolish Death perhaps?