Asan.

Thou perfect woman!

And art thou, then, all mine? What have I done,

52

What have I been, that thus the favouring gods

And the consentient strength of hostile States

Conspire to make me happy? Ah! I fear,

Lest too great happiness be but a snare

Set for our feet by Fate, to take us fast

And then despoil our lives.

Gycia.

My love, fear not.

We have found each other, and no power has strength

To put our lives asunder.

Asan.

Thus I seal

Our contract with a kiss.

[Kisses her.

Gycia.

Oh, happiness!

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