SCENE X.
Ardelia sola.
Ard.
Stay, Teraminta;
But alas! she's gone.
How hapless are we both?
Kind Heav'n preserve her Reason,
But drive me mad in Pity,
That I may have no Sense of Sorrow;
Or end my Life,
And with it all my Misery.
AIR.
The Frantick know
No Thought of Woe,
No Sense of Fear or Smart;
Reflection wings
Ten thousand Strings,
With Anguish to the Heart.
What they have lost,
We to our Cost,
But for our Torment keep;
Their Cares forgot,
They feel 'em not;
But laugh while others weep.
[Exit.
