Civa. Verses! found in the garden. Verses! verses!
On papyrus of Paphos. O, to read!
But you, Alessa—!
Alessa (takes them). In the garden?
Civa. By
The fountain cypress at the marble feet
Of chaste Diana!
Maga. Where Sir Camarin
And oft our lady—!
Civa. Maga will you prattle?
Read them to us, Alessa, read them, read.
They are of love!
Maga. No, sorrow.
Civa. O, as a nun
You ever sigh for sorrow!—They are of love!
Of valour bursting through enchanted bounds
To ladies prisoned in an ogre's keep!
Then of the bridals!—O, they are of love!
Maga. No, Civa, no! of sorrow! see, her lips!
(She points to Alessa, who, reading, has paled.)
See, see!