And there crush a cup of wine.
EMMA
Nay, let be,
Foul fiend, be gone without any tarrying!
Woe’s me, that ever I did such a thing
As summon you, God’s mercy all forgot.
Ah, ah! repentance within me doth burn so hot
It will consume my heart. Alas, I swound!
My strength hath left me.
MOONEN