Thou grantest my request?
Melville.
Lady, I do.
Retire!
[Soldiers go out.
Bland.
I know not what excuse, to martial men,
Thou canst advance for this; but to thy heart
Thou wilt need none, good Melville.
André.
O, Honora!
Honora.
Cheer up, I feel assur'd. Hope wings my flight,
To bring thee tidings of much joy to come.