Cast off at once my little span of joy—
Be wretched—miserable—whate'er thou wilt—
Dost thou forgive me?
Ros.O my friend; my friend!
I love thee now more than I ever lov'd thee.
I must be cruel to thee to be kind:
Each pang I see thee feel strikes thro' my heart;
Then spare us both, call up thy noble spirit,
And meet the blow at once—thy troops are ready—
Let us depart, nor lose another hour.
(Basil shrinks from his arms, and looks at him with somewhat of an upbraiding, at the same time a sorrowful look.)
Bas. Nay, put me not to death upon the instant;
I'll see her once again, and then depart.
Ros. See her but once again, and thou art ruin'd!
It must not be—if thou regardest me—
Bas. Well then, it shall not be. Thou hast no mercy!
Ros. Ah! thou wilt bless me all thine after-life
For what now seems now so merciless.
Bas. (sitting down very dejectedly.) Mine after life! what is mine after life?
My day is clos'd! the gloom of night is come!
A hopeless darkness settles o'er my fate.
I've seen the last look of her heav'nly eyes;
I've heard the last sounds of her blessed voice;
I've seen her fair form from my sight depart:
My doom is closed!
