SONG.
To love one above an hour,
But my heart would prompt mine eye
On some other man to fly;
Venus, fix mine eyes fast,
Or if not, give me all that I shall see at last.
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.
Her grief shoot suddenly through all my veins.
Mine eyes run: This is strange at such a time.
It was the king first moved me to’t;—but he
Has not my will in keeping.—Why do I
Perplex myself thus? Something whispers me,
“Go not to bed.” My guilt is not so great
As mine own