Al.Why dost thou stand and wail?
Za. Oh, I would serve thee; alas! but ’tis too late.
Al. Too late! how is’t too late? If he were dead....
Za. Lady, bear up, I pray thee: for ’tis sure
Thy dream betrayed the truth.
Al.The truth! Alas!
Thou dost believe he is dead. Why, folly, think
How could I then be living? It could not be
That I, a feeble woman, full of faintings
And fears, were more enduring to outlast