Enter Piston.
Piston.
O lady and mistress, weep and lament,
And wring your hands; for my master
Is condemn'd and executed.
Lucina.
Be patient, sweet Perseda; the fool but jests.
Perseda.
Ah no; my nightly dreams foretold me this,
Which, foolish woman! fondly I neglected.
But say, what death died my poor Erastus?
Piston.
Nay, God be prais'd, his death was reasonable;
He was but strangled.