Act Three SCENE I
Before Alaciel's House.
GUENDOLEN
But what you tell me is not credible.
ALACIEL
Sweet girl, you are a casket yet unused,
GUENDOLEN But will he push his fancy to your bent.
ALACIEL
How else ? for in the coy glance of a girl Page .– 1074
GUENDOLEN Have you forgotten then, my sister, how Since war's ensanguined dice have thrown a cast So fatal to our peace, the sweet confines Of Ilni and her primitive content Are hedged and "meted by the savage Law?
ALACIEL
Child, I have not forgotten; but first love Enter Melander.
How now ? was this your compact ? Lift your glance
MELANDER
Ah, cruel child! what hast thou done to me? Page .– 1075 That peep twixt edge and loosely married edge, Thy slumber-swollen purple-fringed orbs, Thy hands, cinque-petalled rosebuds just apart Beneath the wheedling kiss of spring, thy sides Those continents of warm, unmelting snow, All in the balance are but precious air. Nay, with thy whole dear sum of beauties fill The scale, it will not tremble to the dust Save hooped upon thy breast my weight helps thine. Therefore, dear girl, let thy necessity Upon the linked union of our loves Pronounce a solemn benediction.
ALACIEL
I owe you not a doit. You shall not have
MELANDER
If you deny me my just claim, I'll snatch (She embraces him) Pardon me, sweet: thy beauties in my soul Page .– 1076
Blow high the leaping billows of desire
ALACIEL
Loveliest Melander, if I have offended,
Break me or keep" me! I am thine to keep
MELANDER
Hang there till thou hast grown a part of me!
ALACIEL
What, will you bury me with kisses ? Dear,
MELANDER
Inquire the glowing moon why she has dared
Inquire the amorous wind why he has plucked, Nay, catechise the loud rebombing sea Page .– 1077
Who in a thunderous summer dim with rain Then ask fire-footed passion why his rage Has shipwrecked me upon thy silver breasts. Ah love, thyself the culprit, thine the fault, Alaciel, thou — O sweet unconscious sin I — Hast in my members kindled such a fire As only sorcery knows: which to atone Thy virgin hours must sweetly swoon to death While in the snowy summer of thy lap Kind Night shall cool these passion-melted Imibs. When thou dost imitate the blushing rose, I swear thy tint is truer than the life, Than loveliness more lovely. Dearest one, Let naked Love abash the curtained prude. Shame was not made to burn thy field of roses Nor in this married excellence of hues Unfurl disorder's ruby-tinted flag.
ALACIEL
Dear, if I blush, 'tis modesty, not shame.
MELANDER
O love, have you forgot the long elapse Page .– 1078
Upon the belt and midline of our scope.
ALACIEL
Content you, sweet: let patience feed on hope.
Sit here awhile until yon sloping disk Exeunt. Page .– 1079 |