MADAN. MADAN. Wherefore? GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. Boy, Because of all our sires who fought for Troy Most like thy father and my lord Locrine, I think, was Paris. MADAN. MADAN. How may man divine Thy meaning? Blunt am I, thou knowest, of wit; And scarce yet man—men tell me. GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. Ask not it. I meant not thou shouldst understand—I spake As one that sighs, to ease her heart of ache, And would not clothe in words her cause for sighs— Her naked cause of sorrow. MADAN. MADAN. Wert thou wise, Mother, thy tongue had chosen of two things one— Silence, or speech. GUENDOLEN. GUENDOLEN. Speech had I chosen, my son, I had wronged thee—yea, perchance I have wronged thine ears Too far, to say so much. MADAN. MADAN.
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