Nay, mother. It will pass. Only a certain oppression at the heart, I was once subject to. Let us be still.
Song (repeats)
Only we'll live awhile, as children play,
Without to-morrow, without yesterday.
A few bars of ritornello after the song.
DUCHESS DOWAGER (whispering)
Courage, my son, I know all.
ARIADNE
(Recitative with accompaniment of violins, flute and harp)
Theseus, I've sung my song. Alas, alas for our poor songs we sing to the beloved, and vainly try to vary into newness!
A few notes of the harp well up, slow and liquid.