Art thou not worshipped now? What, can it be,
That there is one, who walks in Paradise,
Nor feels the air immortal?

I:3:48 ALAR.
Let my curse
Descend upon the hour I left thy walls,
My father's town!

I:3:49 SOL.
My blessing on thy curse!
Thou hast returned, thou hast returned, Alarcos?

I:3:50 ALAR.
To despair.

I:3:51 SOL.
Yet 'tis not the hour he quitted
Our city's wall, it is the tie that binds him
Within those walls my lips would more denounce,
But ah, that tie is dear!

I:3:52 ALAR.
Accursed be
The wiles that parted us; accursed be
The ties that sever us

I:3:53 SOL.
Thou'rt mine.