Page:Dramas 3.pdf/344

Has thought of that new bride—I hate that bride—
And spoken to me seldom and with looks
Not like his wonted looks, she has been kinder;
Has kiss'd me oftener, and has held me closer
To her soft bosom. O she loves me dearly!
And dearly I love her!—Where is she now,
That thou should'st say, "I would that she were here!"

SABAWATTÉ.

Dear boy! I may not tell thee.

SAMAR.

May not tell me!

Then she is in some sad and hateful place,
And I will go to her.

SABAWATTÉ.

Ah no! thou canst not.

SAMAR.

I will; what shall withhold me, Sabawatté?

SABAWATTÉ.

Strong bolts and bars, dear child!

SAMAR.

Is she in prison?

SABAWATTÉ.

She is.