MONK. (to HEDWIG).
Are you alone? Your husband, is he here?
HEDWIG.
I am expecting him. But what ails you, man?
There's something in your looks, that omens ill!
Whoe'er you be, you are in want—take that.
[Offers him the cup.]
MONK.
Howe'er my sinking heart may yearn for food,
Nought will I taste till you have promised first—
HEDWIG.
Touch not my garments, come not near me, monk!
You must stand farther back, if I'm to hear you.