Is it you?
Anna. Yes I, Don Cesar: who all night
Have waited on your pleasure, unsuspecting
What now too well I know.
My foolish passion, sir, is well revenged
By shamed repentance. Oh, you came at last,
Thinking belike, sir, with the morning star
Retrieve the waste of night; oh, you loved me, sir,
Or seem’d to do, till having won from me
Confession of a love I feel no more,