Most cheerfully,—thou goest. And it was thou
Didst write soft verses: music too,—thy music.
And I thinking I loved thee was betrayed
A thousand times ... and to be scorned—by thee!
Scorned for another. (Weeps.)
Enter St. Nicholas hastily.
ST. NICHOLAS.
My lady, I pray.
D. (going off). Nay, sir: I cannot see you.
N. But listen a moment. Tristram locked me in the cupboard....