_Amin_. Much happiness unto you all.

_[Exeunt Ladies_.

I did that Lady wrong; methinks I feel
Her grief shoot suddenly through all my veins;
Mine eyes run; this is strange at such a time.
It was the King first mov'd me to't, but he
Has not my will in keeping--why do I
Perplex my self thus? something whispers me,
Go not to bed; my guilt is not so great
As mine own conscience (too sensible)
Would make me think; I only brake a promise,
And 'twas the King that forc't me: timorous flesh,
Why shak'st thou so? away my idle fears.

[_Enter Evadne_.

Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye
Can blot away the sad remembrance
Of all these things: Oh my _Evadne_, spare
That tender body, let it not take cold,
The vapours of the night will not fall here.
To bed my Love; _Hymen_ will punish us
For being slack performers of his rites.
Cam'st thou to call me?

_Evad_. No.

_Amin_. Come, come my Love,