Queen.
Down, down ye rising passions, give me ease,
Or break my heart, for I must yet be calm—
But, yet, revenge, our Sex's joy, is mine;
By all the Gods! he lives not till the morn.
Who slights my love, shall sink beneath my hate.
Scene III.
Queen and Vardanes.
Vardanes.
What, raging to the tempest?
Queen.
Away!—away!—
Yes, I will rage—a tempest's here within,
Above the trifling of the noisy elements.
Blow ye loud winds, burst with your violence,
For ye but barely imitate the storm
That wildly rages in my tortur'd breast—
The King—the King—
Vardanes.
Ha! what?—the King?