Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/265

Rh Why, father, what is this ? Can Don Tommaso s wife so soon forget She is the Spagnoletto s child?

Enough. I can bear praise, thou knowest, from all save thee And my Maria. My grave son, I fear, Will mock these transports. Pray go in with me. No one of us but has this night a triumph. Let us make ready. [Exeunt.

Were it not better to withdraw awhile, After our dance, unto the torch-lit gardens? The air is fresh and sweet without.