Chekitan.
Torax will be your Guard.
My Honour suffers, should I now decline;
It is my Country's Cause; I've pawn'd my Word,
Prevented Philip, to make sure of you.
He stays. 'Tis all in favour to our Love;
We must at present please ourselves with Hopes.
Monelia.
Oh! my fond Heart no more conceals its Flame;
I fear, my Prince, I fear our Fates are cruel:
There's something whispers in my anxious Breast,
That if you go, I ne'er shall see you more.
Chekitan.
Oh! how her Words unman and melt my Soul!
As if her Fears were Prophecies of Fate.
[Aside.
Monelia.
Now you grow wild—You must not think of staying;
Our only Hope, you know, depends on Philip.
I will not fear, but hope for his Success,
And your Return with Victory and Triumph,
That Love and Honour both may crown our Joy.
Chekitan.