Oh cruel fate! We can but die!
Each moment seems a week.
Is there no hope? Oh, Hero dear,
If thou couldst only speak!
But no! Within this tower room
We're captive, and despair
Must settle on us. 'Tis the doom
Of all dragged up yon winding stair.
[Drops her head and weeps. Enter Godmother, who waves wand and throwing back curtain, displays a spinning-wheel.
Godmother