ANNE How strange! Although the heart for love dares everything, the hand draws back and finds no spring of courage. London! alone! seems all that it can say. Oh heart, be stronger. That which this coward hand wishes beyond all bravery, the touch of his, may bring its daring to a close, unneeded, and love be all your bounty.
No step in fear shall wander nor in weakness delay. Hear thou or not, merciful heaven, ease thou or not my way. A love that is sworn, sworn before thee can plunder hell of its prey!
(It's getting dark. Some servants come in with several presents)
What can this mean? A ball? a journey? a dream? How evil in the purple dark they seem!. Loot from dead fingers!. Living mockery!. I tremble, tremble with no reason.