heal thine heart of love toward me? ESTRILD. ESTRILD. Locrine, Locrine! LOCRINE. LOCRINE. Thou wouldst not: do not mock me then, Saying out of evil heart, in evil jest, Thy trust is dead to meward. ESTRILD. ESTRILD. King of men, Wouldst thou, being only of all men lordliest, Be lord of women’s thoughts and loving fears? Nay, wert thou less than lord of worlds and years, Of stars and suns and seasons, couldst thou dream To take such empire on thee? LOCRINE. LOCRINE. Nay, not I— No more than she there playing beside the stream To slip within a stormier stream and die. ESTRILD. ESTRILD. She runs too near the brink. Sabrina! LOCRINE. LOCRINE. See, Her hands are lily-laden: let them be A flower-sweet symbol for us. Enter Sabrina.
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