Camarin. Fate may fall. I swore in dread, but will not!
Yolanda (low). Madonna!
Vittia. You refuse?
Yolanda. He does.
Vittia. The whole?
Yolanda. Lady of Venice, yes; for very shame!
[With deep joy.
Bitterly tho' it be, he must, for shame!
For though he would waste the air of the world to keep
The breath still in the veins
Of her his love so wronged,
He cannot ask me more than breast can bear—
Knowing I have already borne for her
Infection worse than fetid marshes send
From Mesaoria—
Have lost the sky of love that I had arched
And all the stars of it. See, he is dumb!—
He cannot.
Camarin (coldly). No; but to your heart I leave her
And to your pity.
Yolanda. Say not pity to me!