Not mine to choose, for he--my father's choice--
Must needs be mine; yes, when I heard his voice,
Duty must echo be: if thou couldst cast
Before my feet an emperor's crown,--a past
By worth and glory lit--beloved, adored--
Yet at my father's word, 'Not this thy lord;
Take one despised--nay, loathed--to share thy bed,'--
Him, and not thee, beloved, would I wed.
Duty, obedience, must have been the part
Of me, who own their sway, e'en with a broken heart!

SEV.
O happy thou! O easy remedy!
One poor faint sigh cures love's infirmity!
Thy heart thy tool, o'er every passion queen,
Beyond all change and chance thou sit'st serene!
In easy flow can pass thy love new-born
From cold indifference to colder scorn;
Such resolution is the equal mate
Of god or monster, love, aversion, hate.
This fine-spun adamant Ithuriel's spear
Could never pierce: for other stuff is here!
(Points to himself.)
No faint 'Alas!' no swift-repented sigh
Can heal the cureless wound from which I die.
Sure, reason finds that love his easy prey
With Lethe aye at hand to point the way;
With ordered fires like thine, I too could smother
A heart in leash, find solace in another.
Too fair, too dear--from whom the Fates me sever!