THE CHORUS.
Learn that from other lips, O Queen, than mine.
MEROPE.
He kept his tale, then, for the King alone?
THE CHORUS.
His tale was meeter for that ear than thine.
MEROPE.
Why dost thou falter, and make half reply?
THE CHORUS.
O thrice unhappy, how I groan thy fate!
MEROPE.
Thou frightenest and confound'st me by thy words.
O were but Arcas come, all would be well!
THE CHORUS.
If so, all's well: for look, the old man speeds
Up from the city tow'rd this gated hill.
[Arcas comes in.
MEROPE.
Not with the failing breath and foot of age
My faithful follower comes. Welcome, old friend!
ARCAS.
Faithful, not welcome, when my tale is told.
O that my over-speed and bursting grief
Had on the journey choked my laboring breath,
And lock'd my speech for ever in my breast!
