AGLAEA:
Him! He's the enemy of our benefactor, Socrates? I am no longer
astonished by the aversion that he inspired me with even before he
spoke to me.
SOPHRONINE:
Alas, is it to him that I must impute the tears that darken your eyes?
AGLAEA:
He can only inspire me with disgust. No, Sophronine, only you can make
my tears flow.
SOPHRONINE:
Me, great gods! I who would pay for them with my blood! I, who adore
you, who flatter myself to be loved by you! I, who must reproach
myself for having cast a moment of bitterness into your life? You are
weeping and I am the cause of it? Then what have I done? What crime
have I committed?
AGLAEA:
You didn't commit any. I am crying because you deserve all my
tenderness; because you have it; and because I must renounce you.
SOPHRONINE:
What funereal words have you uttered? No, I cannot believe it; you
love me, you cannot change. You promised me to be mine; you don't wish
my death.
AGLAEA:
I want you to live happy, Sophronine, and I cannot make you happy. I
hoped, but my fate misled me. I swear that, not being able to be
yours, I will belong to no one. I declared it to that Anitus who is
pursuing me, and whom I scorn.
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