True to our native princes. But away!
The noontide heat is past, and from the seas
Light gales are wandering through the vineyards; now
We may resume our toil.
Exeunt Peasants.
Scene II.—The Terrace of a Castle.
Eribert, Vittoria.
Vit. Have I not told thee, that I bear a heart
Blighted and cold?—Th’ affections of my youth
Lie slumbering in the grave; their fount is closed,