Ulr. You have mine—you have me.

Ida.‍Dear Ulric, how I wish

My father could but view my happiness,

Which wants but this!

Ulr.‍Indeed!

Ida.‍You would have loved him,

He you; for the brave ever love each other:

His manner was a little cold, his spirit

Proud (as is birth's prerogative); but under180

This grave exterior——Would you had known each other!