For the King has promised him fair A goodly earldom of hollow and hill, And a coronet to wear."  "Then woe is worth a father's name, For it names your dourest foe! I had rather you came the child of shame Than to have you fathered so."  "Mother, I shall have gold enow, Though love be never mine, To buy all else that the world can show Of good and fair and fine."  "Oh, what care you for a prince's gold, Or the key of a kingdom's till? I had rather see you a harlot bold That sins of her own free will.  "For I have been wife for the stomach's sake, And I know whereof I say; A harlot is sold for a passing slake, But a wife is sold for aye.  "Body and soul for a lifetime sell, And the price of the sale shall be That you shall be harlot and slave as well Until Death set you free." 

 LAURANA'S SONG. FOR "A LADY OF VENICE."

FOR "A LADY OF VENICE."

 Who'll have the crumpled pieces of a heart? Let him take mine! Who'll give his whole of passion for a part, And call't divine? Who'll have the soiled remainder of desire? Who'll warm his fingers at a burnt-out fire? Who'll drink the lees of love, and cast i' the mire The nobler wine? Let him come here, and kiss me on the mouth, And have his will! Love dead and dry as summer in the South When winds are still And all the leafage shrivels in the heat! Let him come here and linger at my feet Till he grow weary with the over-sweet, And die, or kill. 

LAUNA DEE.

 Weary, oh, so weary With it all! Sunny days or dreary— How they pall! Why should we be heroes, Launa Dee, Striving to no winning? Let the world be Zero's! As in the beginning Let it be! What good comes of toiling, When all's done? Frail green sprays for spoiling Of the sun; Laurel leaf or myrtle, Love or fame— Ah, what odds what spray, sweet? Time, that makes life fertile, Makes its blooms decay, sweet, As they came. Lie here with me dreaming, Cheek to cheek, Lithe limbs twined and gleaming, Brown and sleek; Like two serpents coiling In their lair. Where's the good of wreathing Sprays for Time's despoiling? Let me feel your breathing In my hair. You and I together— Was it so? In the August weather Long ago! Did we kiss and fellow, Side by side, Till the sunbeams quickened From our stalks great yellow Sunflowers, till we sickened There and died? Were we tigers creeping Through the glade Where our prey lay sleeping, Unafraid, In some Eastern jungle? Better so. I am sure the snarling Beasts could never bungle Life as men do, darling, Who half know. Ah, if all of life, love, Were the living! Just to cease from strife, 

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