 | Zenobia |  |
SCENE V.
Zenobia, Tiridates.Zen.
Ah! whither goest thou? Stay, my lord—
[going after Rhad.
Tir.
Ingrate!
So soon would'st thou forsake me?
Zen.
Prince—O Heaven!
I begg'd of thee to shun me.
Tir.
Ah! what mystery
Is hid beneath thy words?—I will obey—
But tell me, wherefore dost thou fly me thus?
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Thou wilt know all, and know it all too soon:
Farewell.
[going.
Tir.
Forgive me—I must follow.
Zen.
No—
It cannot—must not be.
Tir.
But now I saw thee
Threaten'd by ruffian force.—The hand that threaten'd
I knew not, nor the hand that would have sav'd thee,
I could not bear to leave thee thus alone,
Expos'd to certain peril.
Zen.
Greater peril
Awaits me here with thee.
Tir.
At least I may—
Zen.
Leave me in peace—in pity grant my suit:
Life is your gift, with gratitude I own it;
But wherefore make to me your gift unhappy?
Life is your gift, with gratitude I own it;
But wherefore make to me your gift unhappy?
O! let me now at least obtain
A momentary rest;
Nor thus a war and storm again
Awaken in my breast.
A momentary rest;
Nor thus a war and storm again
Awaken in my breast.
A storm, in which my soul may rove,
And risk a spotless name;
A war, in which the strife may prove
Destructive to my fame.
And risk a spotless name;
A war, in which the strife may prove
Destructive to my fame.
[Exit.
| Zenobia | |