Sabrina SABRINA. SABRINA. Sire! O sire, See what fresh flowers—you knew not these before— The spring has brought, to serve my heart’s desire, Forth of the river’s barren bed! no more Will I rebuke these banks for sterile sloth When spring restores the woodlands. By my troth, I hoped not, when you came again, to bring So large a tribute worth so full a smile. LOCRINE. LOCRINE. Child! how should I to thee pay tribute? ESTRILD. ESTRILD. King, Thou hast not kissed her. LOCRINE. LOCRINE. Dare my lips defile Heaven? O my love, in sight of her and thee I marvel how the sun should look on me And spare to turn his beams to fire. ESTRILD. ESTRILD. The child Hears, and is troubled. SABRINA. SABRINA. Did I wrong, to say ‘Sire?’ but you bade me say so. He is mild, And will not chide me. Father! ESTRILD.
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