Fulvia: Your trust is causelessly withdrawn. Yet for
A breath again I beg it—for a moment!
Charles: A moment were too much—or not enough.
Is trust a flower of sudden birth we may
Bid bloom with a command?
Fulvia: Ah, that it were,
Or bloomed as amaranth in those we love,
Beyond all drought and withering of ill!
But hear me——!
Charles: Leave these words.
Fulvia: Will you not turn
Out of this rage?
Charles: Leave them, I say, and cease!
Still down the vortex of this destiny
I would not farther have you drawn.
Fulvia: Then from
It draw yourself!
Charles: Myself am but a hulk
Whose treasures have already been engulfed.
Fulvia: Yet shrink from it!
Charles: A son, a friend, a—No,
She was not mine!—I will not turn.