To smooth the old man's sick-bed.
Zetho.
Nay, my daughter,
I grieve this cannot be. The Prince Asander,
Coming to Cherson only two years gone,
Did pledge his solemn word to thy dead father
That never would he seek, come foul or fair,
To turn from Cherson homewards, and I marvel
That never, in the years that since have passed
Amid the close-knit bonds of wedded lives,