Wert not who thou art, if thou
Didst not weep as thou dost now,
Didst not in thy pure heart bleed
For what Christ's divinest creed
Suffers on this sinful day.

JUSTINA. Thus my lineage I display:--
For thy child I could not be,
Could I without weeping see
This idolatrous display.

LYSANDER. Ah, my good, my gentle maid!
Thou art not my daughter, no,
'Twere too happy, if 'twere so.
But, O God! what's this I've said?--
My life's secret is betrayed!
'Twas my soul that spoke aloud.

JUSTINA. What do you say, sir?

LYSANDER. Oh! a crowd
Of old thoughts my heart hath stirred.

JUSTINA. Many times methought I heard
What but now you have avowed,
And yet never wished to hear,
At the risk perchance of paining,
A more accurate explaining
Of your sorrow and my fear;
But since now it doth appear