OCTAVIO (more urgently).
Come with me, I command thee! I, thy father.
MAX.
Command me what is human. I stay here.
OCTAVIO.
Max! in the Emperor's name I bid thee come.
MAX.
No Emperor has power to prescribe
Laws to the heart; and wouldst thou wish to rob me
Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me,
Her sympathy? Must then a cruel deed
Be done with cruelty? The unalterable
Shall I perform ignobly—steal away,
With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No!
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish,
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul,
And weep tears o'er me. Oh! the human race
Have steely souls—but she is as an angel.
From the black deadly madness of despair
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words
Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death!
OCTAVIO.
Thou wilt not tear thyself away; thou canst not.
O, come, my son! I bid thee save thy virtue.