Thy passion nor its object, nor am free

To take it, for the vision of my soul

Has looked upon its sun, and turns no more

To any lower light.

Ire.

My Lord Asander,

She is not for thee; she cannot make thee happy,

Nor thou her. Oh, believe me! I am full

Of boding thoughts of the sure fatal day

Which shall dissolve in blood the bonds which love

To-day has plighted. If thou wilt not take me,

Then get thee gone alone. I see a fire

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Which burns more fierce than love, and it consumes thee.

Fly with me, or alone, but fly.

Asan.

Irene,

Passion distracts thy brain. I pray you, seek

Some mutual love as I. My heart is fixed,

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