Sapho. That I may gather it. But why do you sigh so, Phao?
Phao. It is mine use, Madam.
Sapho. It will do you harm, and me too: for I never hear one sigh, but I must sigh also.
Phao. It were best then that your Ladyship give me leave to be gone; for I can but sigh—
Sapho. Nay, stay; for now I begin to sigh, I shall not leave, though you be gone. But what do you think best for your sighing, to take it away?
Phao. Yew, Madam.
Sapho. Me!
Phao. No, Madam; Yew of the tree.
Sapho. Then will I love Yew the better. And indeed I think it would make me sleep too; therefore, all other simples set aside, I will simply use only Yew.