To share the soft hours of Sardanapalus,

We'll meet again in that the sweetest hour,

When we shall gather like the stars above us,10

And you will form a heaven as bright as theirs;

Till then, let each be mistress of her time,

And thou, my own Ionian Myrrha,[7] choose;

Wilt thou along with them or me?

Myr.‍My Lord—

Sar. My Lord!—my Life! why answerest thou so coldly?

It is the curse of kings to be so answered.