Back to the city bear her now. Revive,
My mistress. Why dost seek to harm thyself
And shun thy comrades' eyes. For be thou sure
Not circumstance but will can make impure.735
[Exeunt.]
Chorus: He fled away like the storm-blast wild,
More swift than cloud-compelling winds;
And swifter than the comet's torch,
When, driven before the wind, it speeds
With long-drawn, trailing fires.740