I'll wait; and should sad thoughts disturb his quiet,
If love has power, with love's soft breath dispel them.
[Exit Adelaide.
Enter Theodore, with a Paper.
Theod. My importunity at last has conquer'd:
Weeping, my father gave, and bade me read it.
"'Tis there," he cried, "the mystery of thy birth;
There, view thy long divorce from Adelaide."
Why should I read it? Why with rav'nous haste
Gorge down my bane? The worst is yet conceal'd;