58

Betrays me here.

Ire.

Thou mayest well forget

My name, if thou hast quite forgot its owner.

[Weeps.

I am called Irene.

Asan.

Strange! the very name

My lady did relate to me as hers

Who bears a hopeless love. Weep not, good lady;

Take comfort. Heaven is kind.

Ire.

Nay, my good lord,

What comfort? He I love loves not again,

Or not me, but another.

Asan.

Ah, poor lady!

I pity you indeed, now I have known

True recompense of love.

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