Rather.
Cara.—
Then your lot
Is not so very hard.
Eben.—
I’d rather not.
Cara.—
Ah, me! though cruel, still to him I cling;
Perhaps he will be kinder if I sing.
(Turns, weeping.)
Rather.
Cara.—
Then your lot
Is not so very hard.
Eben.—
I’d rather not.
Cara.—
Ah, me! though cruel, still to him I cling;
Perhaps he will be kinder if I sing.
(Turns, weeping.)