Alcestis.—
Of that vine-treading thou hast drunk the wine.
Admetus.—
Give me to drink again! Come! for I call!
Alcestis.—
Again thou askest of me, and I give—all.
(Falling back in his arms, she dies.)
Admetus.—
Now art thou mine! O bride of every sense!
(He bears her to the bed.)