GUENDOLEN. Should I gainsay their general rede, My heart would mock me. CAMBER. CAMBER. Such a spirit as mine Being spiritless—my words heartless—mine acts Faint shadows of Locrine’s or Albanact’s? GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. Nay—not so much—I said not so. Say thou What thou wouldst have—if aught thou wouldst—with me. CAMBER. CAMBER. No man might see thine eyes and lips and brow Who would not—what he durst not crave of thee. GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. Ay, verily? And thy spirit exalts thee now So high that these thy words fly forth so free, And fain thine act would follow—flying above Shame’s reach and fear’s? What gift may this be? Love? Or liking? or compassion? CAMBER. CAMBER. Take not thus Mine innocent words amiss, nor wrest awry Their piteous purpose toward thee. GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. Piteous! Who lives so low and looks upon the sky As would desire—who shares the sun with us That might deserve thy pity?
Prev.
Back
Top