But the night coming on with her silent steps upon them, they parted each from other, if at least they could be parted, of whom every one did live in another, and went about to flatter sleep in their beds, that disdained to bestow itself liberally upon such eyes, which by their will would ever be looking, and in least measure upon Gynecia. Who, when Basilius after long tossing was gotten asleep, and the cheerful comfort of the lights removed from her, kneeling up in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swollen heart, to renew the curses of her birth; and then in a manner embracing {208} her bed: “Ah chastest bed of mine,” said she, “which never heretofore could’st accuse me of one defiled thought, how can’st thou now receive this disastered changeling? happy, happy, be they only which be not; and thy blessedness only in this respect thou mayest feel that thou hast no feeling.” With that she furiously tore off great part of her fair hair: “Take care, O forgotten virtue,” said she, “this miserable sacrifice; while my soul was clothed with modesty, that was a comely ornament: now why should nature crown that head, which is so wicked, as her only desire is she cannot be enough wicked?” more she would have said, but that Basilius, awaked with the noise, took her in his arms, and began to comfort her, the good man thinking it was all for a jealous love of him, which humour if she would a little have maintained, perchance it might have weakened his new-conceived fancies. But he, finding her answers wandering from the purpose, left her to herself (glad the next morning to take the advantage of a sleep, which a little before day overwatched with sorrow, her tears had as it were sealed up in her eyes) to have the more conference with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by those two lovers, and ever kept from any mean to declare herself, found in herself a daily increase of her violent desires; like a river, the more swelling, the more his current is stopped. The chief recreation she could find in her anguish, was sometime to visit that place, where first she was so happy as to see the cause of her unhap. There would she kiss the ground, and thank the trees, bless the air, and do dutiful reverence to everything that she thought did accompany her at their first meeting: then return again to her inward thoughts; sometimes despair darkening all her imaginations, sometimes the active passion of love cheering and clearing her invention, how to unbar that cumbersome hindrance of her two ill-matched lovers. But this morning Basilius himself gave her good occasion to go beyond them. For having combed and tricked himself more curiously than any time forty winters before, coming where Zelmane was, he found her given over to her musical muses, to the great pleasure of good old Basilius, who retired himself behind a tree, while she with a most sweet voice did utter those passionate verses.