my side, and listening to this music
That nature gave thee. What's eternal life
To this inspired mortality! Let priests
And pontiffs thunder, still I feel that here
Is all my joy.

III:2:50 SOL.
Ah! why not say thy woe?
Who stands between thee and thy rights but me?
Who stands between thee and thine ease but me?
Who bars thy progress, brings thee cares, but me?
Lures thee to impossible contracts, goads thy faith
To mad performance, welcomes thee with sighs,
And parts from them with tears? Is this joy? No!
I am thine evil genius.

III:2:51 ALAR.
Say my star
Of inspiration. This reality
Baffles their mystic threats. Who talks of cares?
Why, what's a Prince, if his imperial will
Be bitted by a priest! There's nought impossible.
Thy sighs are sighs of love, and all thy tears
But affluent tenderness.

III:2:52 SOL.
You sing as sweet
As did the syrens; is it from the heart,
Or from the lips, that voice?

III:2:53 ALAR.
Solisa!

III:2:54 SOL.
Ay!
My ear can catch a treacherous tone; 'tis trained
To perfidy. My Lord Alarcos, look me
Straight in the face. He quails not.

III:2:55 ALAR.
O my soul,
Is this the being for whose love I've pledged
Even thy forfeit!

III:2:56 SOL.
Alarcos, dear Alarcos,
Look not so stern! I'm mad; yes, yes, my life
Upon thy truth; I know thou'rt true: he said
It rested but with thee; I said it not,
Nor thought it.

III:2:57 ALAR.
Lady!

III:2:58 SOL.
Not that voice!

III:2:59 ALAR.
I'll know
Thy thought; the King hath spoken?

III:2:60 SOL.
Words of joy
And madness. With thyself alone he says
It rests.

III:2:61 ALAR.