To love and to be loved! And yet methinks

Love is not always thus. To some he brings

Deep disappointment only, and the pain

Of melancholy years. I have a lady

Who loves, but is unloved. Poor soul! she lives

A weary life. Some youth of Bosphorus

53

Stole her poor heart.

Asan.

Of Bosphorus saidst thou?

And her name is?

Gycia.

Irene. Didst thou know her?

Asan. Nay, love, or if I did I have forgot her.

Gycia. Poor soul! to-day when first we met, she saw

Her lover 'midst thy train and swooned away.

Asan. Poor heart! This shall be seen to. Tell me, Gycia,

Didst love me at first sight?

Gycia.

Unreasonable,

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