There's trouble in thine eye.—A with'ring curse
Light on his heartless heart, if this be true!
MONTEBESA.
To question me of that which well may be
Without my knowledge;—that which, if it be,
Nor thou nor I have any power to alter.
SAMARKOON.
A shameful answer, shunning open words.
Dear, dear Artina! thou hast climb'd already
The sunny side of Doombra's mountain ridge,
And now with one short step must pass the bounds
Dividing ardent heat from chilling clouds
With drenching mist surcharged.
So suddenly
To bring this change upon her! Cruel craft!
He knows that it will break her tender heart,
And serve his fatal purpose.
MONTEBESA.
Thou art unjust, ungenerous, unwise;
For should Rasinga—no uncommon act,
Take to his princely bower a second bride,
Would not Artina still be held in honour,
Her children cherish'd and their rank secured?
SAMARKOON.
