The glory of the night. But thou dost love her—

Is it not so, fair lady?

Ire.

Ay, my lord,

For we have lived together all our lives;

I could not choose but love.

Asan.

Well said indeed.

Tell me, and have I seen thy face before?

A something in it haunts me.

Ire.

Ay, my lord.

Am I forgot so soon?

Asan.

Indeed! Thy name?

Where have I seen thee?

Ire.

Where? Dost thou, then, ask?

Asan. Ay; in good truth, my treacherous memory

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