Tannhäuser

Venus. What ? Art thou mad ? Come close to me again. Forget this nightmare. Rather, tell me it, And I will soothe thee. Have I not a balm, A sovereign comfort in my old caress ? Tannhauser. I must begone. She waits. Venus. Who waits ? Come here ! Let us talk fondly, set together still, Not with these shouts and wavings of the arms, Struts and unseemly gestures. Tannhauser ! Tannhauser. She waits for me, my sweet Elizabeth ! Venus or Lilith, I have loved thee well ! Now, to my freedom ! Venus. Your Elizabeth ! • Tannhauser. Ay, to those pure and alabaster brows, The tender fingers, and the maiden smile. Burn the whore's bed ! Unpaint the cruel lips ! 69