Lydia
You ask too much of me. I love Hellas, but I love you more.
Phocion
Then—not enough. (Looks away.) You make it hard for me. I see the right so clearly, but your clinging love makes me weak.
Lydia
There is nothing in the world for a woman but her love. If you were lost to me, Phocion, these lips could kiss one other only—the rising flood (shudders) of our little Athenian river—or the sea.
Phocion
What comes, sweet wife, comes to both of us together. You are overwrought with sleeplessness and watching. Trust me and love me—more I cannot tell you now. Your love shall give me strength. (He embraces her and moves slowly off towards the colonnade.) And if there is a greater love than yours, some day we shall find it—know it both together. What comes to me to do now—I must do.
[Goes slowly off.