Escarpin.
For a lady's favour you
Have agreed to die?
Chrysanthus.
'T is true.
Escarpin.
Does not this a certain savour
Of insanity give your sadness?
Chrysanthus.
Were I certain as of breath
I could claim it after death,
There was method in my madness.
Escarpin.
A brave soldier of the line,
On his death-bed lying ill,
Spoke thus, "Item, 't is my will,
Gallant friends and comrades mine,
That you 'll bear me to my grave,
And although I 've little wealth,
Thirty reals to drink my health
Shall you for your kindness have".
Thus the hope as vain must be
After death one's love to wed,
As to drink one's health when dead.
[Nisida advances from the garden.]
Chrysanthus.
But what maid is this I see
Hither through the garden wending?
Escarpin.
If you take a stroll with me
Plenty of her sort you 'll see.
Nisida.
One who would effect the ending
Of thy sadness.