Vardanes.
Dread Thermusa,
Say, what has rous'd this tumult in thy soul?
What dost thou rage with unabating fury,
Wild as the winds, loud as the troubl'd sea?
Queen.
Yes, I will tell thee—Evanthe—curse her—
With charms—Would that my curses had the pow'r
To kill, destroy, and blast where e'er I hate,
Then would I curse, still curse, till death should seize
The dying accents on my falt'ring tongue.
So should this world, and the false changeling man
Be buried in one universal ruin.
Vardanes.
Still err'st thou from the purpose.
Queen.
Ha! 'tis so—
Yes I will tell thee—for I know fond fool,
Deluded wretch, thou dotest on Evanthe—
Be that thy greatest curse, be curs'd like me,
With jealousy and rage, for know, the King,
Thy father, is thy rival.
Scene IV.
Vardanes [alone].