A just decree of fortune to secure
The hunters who had roused him from his lair.
He made a desperate stand at bay—but, sweet,
I must abridge my tale, since it doth blanch
The roses on thy cheek. Thou can'st not bear
To hear thy husband's prowess; I had hoped
To win thy plaudits—
Helena.
Why, why wilt thou rush
Upon such frightful danger? Is thy life
So little valued, or my happiness
So trifling in thine eyes.
Giovanni.
Oh, Tyranny,
Thou hast usurped an angel's form; thy chains
Are made of roses; who, who would be free
When slavery is so sweet? I'll stay with thee
The live-long day, exchange my dangerous sword
For that slight spear that weaves thy magic webs.—
Give me thy distaff, love.
