Asan.

Go not yet, my sweet;

And yet I bid thee go. Upon thy lips

I set love's seal, thus, thus.

[Kisses her. They embrace.

Good night!

Gycia.

Good night!

[Exit Gycia.

Gycia.

Enter Irene unperceived.

Irene

Asan. Ah, sweetest, best of women! paragon

Of all thy sex, since first thy ancestress

Helen, the curse of cities and of men,

56

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Marshalled the hosts of Greece! But she brought discord;

Thou, by thy all-compelling sweetness, peace

And harmony for strife. What have I done,

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