Once I longed
To be beloved,--now would they but forget me!
Most vile I must be, or they could not hate me!
Isen. They are of this world, thou art not, poor child,
Therefore they hate thee, as they did thy betters.
Eliz. But, Lewis, nurse?
Isen. He, child? he is thy knight;
Espoused from childhood: thou hast a claim upon him.
One that thou'lt need, alas!--though, I remember--
'Tis fifteen years agone--when in one cradle
We laid two fair babes for a marriage token;
And when your lips met, then you smiled, and twined
Your little limbs together.--Pray the Saints
That token stand!--He calls thee love and sister,
And brings thee gew-gaws from the wars: that's much!
At least he's thine if thou love him.
Eliz. If I love him?
What is this love? Why, is he not my brother
And I his sister? Till these weary wars,
The one of us without the other never
Did weep or laugh: what is't should change us now?
You shake your head and smile.
Isen. Go to; the chafe
Comes not by wearing chains, but feeling them.
Eliz. Alas! here comes a knight across the court;
Oh, hide me, nurse! What's here? this door is fast.
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