Sarmion. Have you to suffer daily miseries? Then here I stay. Gaunt wretchedness, advance: If I may have this maiden for my mate, No sting, no stroke of yours can make me quail; And while I live I cannot be so bruised But some sound part of me shall have the strength To bear the blows intended for my love. Ione. Now, God forbid! 'Tis I shall be your shield. Ariadne. Come here and kiss me. [Ariadne embraces Ione. Bacchus. This is well, indeed.-- We must, ere dawn, away to India: You two shall be transported through the air To Glaucus' house. Ione. How far are we from home? Bacchus. Three miles, I think. Ione. O, pray you, let us walk! Sarmion, three miles together through the wood Shimmering with moonlight, full of smothered sound, And ghostly shadow, and the mingled scent Of flowers and spices, and the cooling earth! It is a very lifetime of delight! Bacchus. Good-night then, and farewell. Ariadne. Farewell. Ione. Farewell. Sarmion. All happiness go with you into Ind. [Sarmion and Ione go out. Ariadne. This star, my love--I burn to see this star. Bacchus. You shall upon your birthday. Ariadne. Two weeks hence, As mortals count! Well, I can wait. Bacchus. Lead on. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Plays, by John Davidson