How will she love when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd--
Her sweet perfections -- with one self king!
Away before me to sweet beds of flow'rs;
Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bow'rs.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE II. The sea-coast.

[Enter VIOLA, a CAPTAIN, and SAILORS.]

VIOLA.
What country, friends, is this?

CAPTAIN.
This is Illyria, lady.

VIOLA.
And what should I do in Illyria?
My brother he is in Elysium.
Perchance he is not drown'd. What think you, sailors?

CAPTAIN.
It is perchance that you yourself were sav'd.

VIOLA.