Pha. [To Stesilaus] Forgive your child!
Alc. The priest——
Ste. My child?
Alc. The priest has made us one.
Pel. What priest? Who dared
Defile the altar with such rite?
Alc. [Rising] Defile?
Though you're my Phania's father, you shall cast
No stain upon that holy ceremony
Whose odor yet is round us. Sir, the priest
Has blessed us. Do you as you please. Come, Phania!
Come, sweet! We'll smile at this. Though a father's curse
Bethorn our way, a gentler heaven will drop
Its soft approval where thy feet must pass. [Going]
Pel. Speak, Stesilaus! Stop your wretched son!
Alc. Not wretched, sir, while Phania is my own.
We shall be blest when you, too late, beseech
Unhearing gods forgive you this!
Pel. Stay, sir!
O, miserable boy!
Pha. No, father, no!
He's happy in my love as leaf in air,
As the sea-crystalled fish, as lotos in
Its pool,—and I—O, sir, my joy has wings,
And tho' I love you dear and daughterly,—
Who gave me life,—your anger has no weight
To keep my feet on earth. Like twirling lark
Too high for storm to reach, I dance above
Displeasure's cloud. [Trips off with Alcanor]