Did'st thou not say so?—Husbands, lovers, friends,
Not one return'd again.
Ter. So I believe.
Aur.Thou but believest then?
Ter. As I was told
Ed.Thou hast the story wrong.
Four years gone by, one did return again;
But marr'd, and maim'd, and chang'd—a woeful man.
Aur. And what tho' every limb were hack'd and maim'd,
And roughen'd o'er with scars?—he did return.
(Rising lightly from her seat.)
I would a pilgrimage to Iceland go,
To the Antipodes or burning zone,
To see that man who did return again,
And her who did receive him.—Did receive him!
O what a moving thought lurks here!—How was't?
Tell it me all: and oh, another time,
Give me your tale ungarbled.—
Enter Viola.
Since our long vigil. Thou hast had, I hope,
A sound and kindly sleep.
Viol. Kindly enough, but somewhat cross'd with dreams.
Aur. How cross'd? what was thy dream? O tell it me!
I have an ear that craves for every thing
