To say their prayers, and set the Saints the fashion.

[Sophia and Agnes go out.]

Isen. Proud hussy! Thou shalt set thy foot on her neck yet,
darling,
When thou art Landgravine.

Eliz. And when will that be?
No, she speaks truth! I should have been a nun.
These are the wages of my cowardice,--
Too weak to face the world, too weak to leave it!

Guta. I'll take the veil with you.

Eliz. 'Twere but a moment's work,--
To slip into the convent there below,
And be at peace for ever. And you, my nurse?

Isen. I will go with thee, child, where'er thou goest.
But Lewis?

Eliz. Ah! my brother! No, I dare not--
I dare not turn for ever from this hope,
Though it be dwindled to a thread of mist.
Oh that we two could flee and leave this Babel!
Oh if he were but some poor chapel-priest,
In lonely mountain valleys far away;
And I his serving-maid, to work his vestments,
And dress his scrap of food, and see him stand