White I know from red, and dark from bright, And milk from blood in hawthorn-flowers: but not Woman from woman.

ALBOVINE.

ALBOVINE.

How should God our Lord, Except his eye see further than his world? For women ever make themselves anew, Meseems, to match and mock the maker. Friend, If ever I were friend of thine in fight, Speak, and I bid thee not speak truth: I know Thy tongue knows nought but truth or silence.

NARSETES.

NARSETES.

Is it A king’s or friend’s part, king, to bid his friend Speak what he knows not? Speak then thou, that I May find thy will and answer it.

ALBOVINE.

ALBOVINE.

I am fain And loth to tell thee how it wrings my heart That now this hard-eyed heavy southern sun Hath wrought its will upon us all a year And yet I know not if my wife be mine.

NARSETES.

NARSETES.

Thy meanest man at arms had known ere dawn Blinked on his bridal birthday.

ALBOVINE.

ALBOVINE.

Did I bid thee Mock, and forget me for thy friend—I say not, King? Is thy heart so light and lean a thing, So loose in faith and faint in love? I bade thee Stand to me, help me, hold my hand in thine And give my heart back answer. This it is, Old friend and fool, that gnaws my life in twain— The worm that writhes and feeds about my heart— The devil and God are crying in either ear One murderous word for ever, night and day, Dark day and deadly night and deadly day, Can she love thee who slewest her father? I Love her.

NARSETES.

NARSETES.

Thy wife 

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