I:3:13 SOL.
I sent for thee,
To tell thee why I sent for thee; yet why,
Alas! I know not. Was it but to look
Alone upon the face that once was mine?
This morn it was so grave. O! was it woe,
Or but indifference, that inspired that brow
That seemed so cold and stately? Was it hate?
O! tell me anything, but that to thee
I am a thing of nothingness.

I:3:14 ALAR.
O spare!
Spare me such words of torture.

I:3:15 SOL.
Could I feel
Thou didst not hate me, that my image brought
At least a gentle, if not tender thoughts,
I'd be content. I cannot live to think,
After the past, that we should meet again
And change cold looks. We are not strangers, say
At least we are not strangers?

I:3:16 ALAR.
Gentle Princess --

I:3:17 SOL.
Call me Solisa; tho' we meet no more