Pro. Here is my hand for my true constancy;
And when that hour o’erslips me in the day
10 Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake,
The next ensuing hour some foul mischance
Torment me for my love’s forgetfulness!
My father stays my coming; answer not;
The tide is now:—nay, not thy tide of tears;
15 That tide will stay me longer than I should.
Julia, farewell! [Exit Julia.]
What, gone without a word?