Even at the altar, where my plight was vowed,
My thoughts were all of thee. Speak, speak, and say
Thou dost not hate me.
Hip. Some sudden frenzy hath upset thy brain—
Thou knowest not what thou speakest.
Phæ. I am not mad! would to the gods I were—
Think not that I have yielded willingly,
Unto the passion which I now avow,
Daily, and hourly, have I striven against it:
And night by night, when visions and when dreams