will he not let my words sink down into his obdurate ears?
Whither is he hurrying? Let him grant this last boon to 15
her who loves him so wildly; let him wait till the way is
smoothed for his flight, and there are winds to waft him.
I am not asking him now to renew our old vows which he
has forsworn. I am not asking him to forego his fair
Latium, and resign his crown. I entreat but a few vacant 20
hours, a respite and breathing-space for my passion, till
my fortune shall have taught baffled love how to grieve.
This is my last request of you—Oh, pity your poor sister!—a