LOCRINE. What bids thee then revile me, knowing no cause? GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. Strong sorrow knows but sorrow’s lawless laws. LOCRINE. LOCRINE. Yet these should turn not grief to raging fire. GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. They should not, had my heart my heart’s desire. LOCRINE. LOCRINE. Would God that love, my queen, could give thee this! GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. Thou dost not call me wife—nor call’st amiss. LOCRINE. LOCRINE. What name should serve to stay this fitful strife?
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