Enter the Duke.
duke.
Arouse thee!—fly.
Ere yet the fetters closer to thine heart
Are riveted—immoved for ever!
Thou counsellest well—these are ignoble trammels.
And I do rid me of them. Once—'tis fix'd—
A short, sad hour we meet, and then farewell!
Duty, remorseless, bids me.—There I'll pour
Into her wondering ear a hapless tale
Of thwarted love—hearts broken, severed
By obdurate fate—and in that feign'd lament,
Bewail mine own.—I must my story tell;
None other cause could I with honour urge
Why thus we part—for ever!
Enter Fabian.
fabian.
My lord, a woman of strange aspect,
And habited in Eastern garb, sits now
Within the western porch, waiting your presence.
She would not tell to me her errand.
duke.
How—
A stranger, and from whence?—Knowest thou her name?
fabian.
She holds most resolute silence—I forebore
To question her.
duke.
Describe this sullen guest.
fabian.
A turban girds her brow, white as the sea-foam,
Whence, all untrammelled, her dark thin hair
Streams fitfully upon her storm-beat front;
Her eye at rest, pale fire in its black orb
Innocuous sleeps—but roused, Jove's thunder-cloud
Enkindles not so fiercely! Once it shot
Full on mine eye:—in dazzling terror yet
It haunts my brain!
duke.
How eloquent the tongue
When the soul stirs it!—I would see, unharm'd,
This quickenéd volcano! [Exit Fabian.
Some moon-struck wanderer
Craving redress for her wrong'd fancies.
Enter Fabian followed by Zorayda; she stands in silence gazing at the Duke.