SONG.

Evad. So, leave me now.

Dula. Nay, we must see you laid.

Asp. Madam, good-night. May all the marriage joys That longing maids imagine in their beds,
Prove so unto you! May no discontent
Grow ’twixt your love and you! But, if there do,
Inquire of me, and I will guide your moan;
Teach you an artificial way to grieve,
To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord
No worse than I: but if you love so well,
Alas, you may displease him; so did I.
This is the last time you shall look on me.—
Ladies, farewell. As soon as I am dead,
Come all, and watch one night about my hearse;
Bring each a mournful story, and a tear,
To offer at it when I go to earth.
With flatt’ring ivy clasp my coffin round;
Write on my brow my fortune; let my bier
Be borne by virgins that shall sing, by course,
The truth of maids, and perjuries of men.

Evad. Alas, I pity thee.

[Exit Evadne.

All. Madam, good-night.

1 Lady. Come, we’ll let in the bridegroom.

Dula. Where’s my lord?

Enter AMINTOR.

1 Lady. Here, take this light.

Dula. You’ll find her in the dark.

1 Lady. Your lady’s scarce a-bed yet; you must help her.

Asp. Go, and be happy in your lady’s love.
May all the wrongs, that you have done to me,
Be utterly forgotten in my death!
I’ll trouble you no more; yet I will take
A parting kiss, and will not be denied.
You’ll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep
When I am laid in earth, though you yourself
Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself
Into this willow garland, and am prouder
That I was once your love, though now refused,
Than to have had another true to me.
So with my prayers I leave you, and must try
Some yet-unpractised way to grieve and die.

[Exit.

Dula. Come, ladies, will you go?

All. Good-night, my lord.

Amin. Much happiness unto you all!—

[Exeunt Ladies.