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MARIAN.

Dear Alice! how thou tremblest every limb,

As in an ague fit!

ALICE.

It was no dream;

It was no strong delusion of the fancy.

MARIAN.

This is indeed an awful confirmation.

But stay no longer here: go to thy home;
Thou hast great need of rest.

ALICE.

I have more need,

Within my closet, on my bended knees,
To pray for mercy on my sinful self,
And those to me most dear,—poor sinners all.
This is a sad and awful visitation.

MARIAN.

But didst thou not expect to find it so?

I thought thou wert prepared.

ALICE.

I thought so too;

But certainty makes previous expectation
Seem, by comparison, a state of hope.

MARIAN.

We now are free to hold upon our way.

Let us proceed: come on with me, dear Alice.
[Exeunt.