And, as my lady must too surely think,
By my forgetfulness. (Aloud.) My lord, indeed
The night wears on. May not the chiller air
That blows from the returning tide of day
Affect you?
Prince. Nay, my state forbidding me
Much to be seen about the streets by day,
The night must serve my purpose.
Ces. (aside). Patience then!
And I must try and draw my thoughts from her