Eliz. Oh, forgive me!
But hope at times throngs in so rich and full,
It mads the brain like wine: come with me, nurse,
Sit by me, lull me calm with gentle tales
Of noble ladies wandering in the wild wood,
Fed on chance earth-nuts, and wild strawberries,
Or milk of silly sheep, and woodland doe.
Or how fair Magdalen 'mid desert sands
Wore out in prayer her lonely blissful years,
Watched by bright angels, till her modest tresses
Wove to her pearled feet their golden shroud.
Come, open all your lore.

[Sophia and Agnes enter.]

My mother-in-law!

[Aside] Shame on thee, heart! why sink, whene'er we meet?

Soph. Daughter, we know of old thy strength, of metal
Beyond us worldlings: shrink not, if the time
Be come which needs its use--

Eliz. What means this preface? Ah! your looks are big
With sudden woes--speak out.

Soph. Be calm, and hear
The will of God toward my son, thy husband.

Eliz. What? is he captive? Why then--what of that?