ANT. Woe is me! Of him, our sire!
ISM. But how
Can this be lawful? Seest thou not?
ANT. How say’st thou?
Why this remonstrance?
ISM. Seest thou not, again,
He hath no grave and no man buried him.
ANT. Take me but where he lies. Then slay me there.
ISM. Ah! woe is me, doubly unfortunate,
Forlorn and destitute, whither henceforth
For wretched comfort must we go?
CH. Fear nought,
Dear maidens!
ISM. Where shall we find refuge?
CH. Here,
Long since, your refuge is secure.
ANT. How so?