Hub. Only this,
That Glaia, weary of skies, rests foot on earth.
La. Alb. He does not love her, Hubert? Say not that!
Hub. Thy daughter is so honored.
La. Alb. No!
Hub. She has
His noble love, and he my happy wish
That he may make her wife.
La. Alb. Then thou art false,
And I look on my grave.