Wake, wake, poor child, poor child, Elizabeth!
Elizabeth.
What says my dear one? I have been with God.
Tannhäuser (aside).
How shall I speak? A violent good-bye,
As one distraught, ashamed? I had unbared
My bosom to these folk, but the sole pride,
My father’s gift—to be a gentleman—
Forbade the dying, welcome otherwise,
At any despicable hands as theirs.