HOTHER, NANNA.
HOTHER (he rushes up to her in alarm). Dearest!
NANNA (looking stiffly upon him). Ah! my Hother!
HOTHER. So wild! so pale! Ah! would thy noble bosom
Was not so tender!
NANNA. Voice of my belov’d one!
Oh, speak again! Oh, speak again!
HOTHER. Thou tremblest,
My bride! my much-lov’d bride! And burning tear-drops,
Oh, hide them! Ha! they burn me—melt my courage!
Weep not, my bride!
NANNA. Ah, joy! the joy of heaven,
Entices forth these tears! My Hother liveth!
HOTHER (mournfully). Still liveth!
NANNA (affectionately and sorrowfully). Still!
HOTHER (turning away his face). O cruel, cruel fortune!
Yet I have sworn?