But of the midnight festival.

Myr.‍'Tis time

To think of aught save festivals. Thou hast not

Spurned his sage cautions?

Sar.‍What?—and dost thou fear?

Myr. Fear!—I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?

A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?480

Sar. Then wherefore dost thou turn so pale?

Myr.‍I love.

Sar. And do not I? I love thee far—far more