Emma hearkening to this play bethought her of her sinful life with sad heart, with herself saying:
Lord God, how doth my blood grow warm
At the words I hear spoke on yon pageant-wain.
These be reasons and arguments so plain
That pure contrition I do begin to know.
MOONEN
Well, must we stand here forever? What say ye, ho!
Wherefore to hear this brabbling be ye fain?
Let us be gone, love.
EMMA