Because the blossom of young life is blighted,
To pluck its stem of verdure from the root!
Live—for my sake! Hence from this wretched city,
Where you are watched, and sought for, as the bloodhound
Doth seek his prey! Go—go! we may not meet
On earth again.
‘Foscarini.
‘So wretched——
‘Teresa.
‘Happier far