Fix my last look on thee, in holy love,
Parting, but yet with hope!
Elm. (falling at his feet.) Canst thou forgive?
Oh, I have driven the arrow to thy heart,
That should have buried it within mine own,
And borne the pang in silence! I have cast
Thy life’s fair honour, in my wild despair,
As an unvalued gem upon the waves,
Whence thou hast snatch’d it back, to bear from earth,
All stainless, on thy breast. Well hast thou done—