Mar.Indeed,
Guessing would never wind it.
Con.Then, prithee, tell me.
Mar. I died to tell thee ere thou camest, and now
I grudge it sadly. Yet, for the fresh mount
’Twill give thy thoughts, I’ll tell. ’Twas yesternight,
Just on the stroke of one ...
Con.’Tis not a ghost?
Mar. If after all ’twere but a ghost!
Con.Come, tell me.