NAAMAN:
Why that should be,--O dare I dream it true?
Tsarpi, my wife? Have I misjudged thy heart
As cold and proud? How nobly thou forgivest!
Thou com'st to hold me from the last disgrace,--
The coward's flight into the dark. Go back
Unstained, my sword! Life is endurable
While there is one alive on earth who loves us,

RUAHMAH:
My lord,--my lord,--O listen! You have erred,--
You do mistake me now,--this dream--

NAAMAN:
Ah, wake me not! For I can conquer death
Dreaming this dream. Let me at last believe,
Though gods are cruel, a woman can be kind.
Grant me but this! For see,--I ask so little,--
Only to know that thou art faithful,--
Only to lean upon the thought that thou,
My wife, art near me, though I touch thee not,--
O this will hold me up, though it be given
From pity more than love.

RUAHMAH: [_Trembling, and speaking slowly._]
Not so, my lord!
My pity is a stream; my pride of thee
Is like the sea that doth engulf the stream;
My love for thee is like the sovran moon
That rules the sea. The tides that fill my soul