WHAT'S HOT
Prev | Current Page 27 | Next

Browning, Robert, 1812-1889

"A Blot in the 'Scutcheon"


MILDRED. Go!
Be that your last word. I shall sleep to-night.
MERTOUN. This is not our last meeting?
MILDRED. One night more.
MERTOUN. And then--think, then!
MILDRED. Then, no sweet courtship-days,
No dawning consciousness of love for us,
No strange and palpitating births of sense
>From words and looks, no innocent fears and hopes,
Reserves and confidences: morning's over!
MERTOUN. How else should love's perfected noontide follow?
All the dawn promised shall the day perform.
MILDRED. So may it be! but--
You are cautious, Love?
Are sure that unobserved you scaled the walls?
MERTOUN. Oh, trust me! Then our final meeting's fixed
To-morrow night?
MILDRED. Farewell! stay, Henry... wherefore?
His foot is on the yew-tree bough; the turf
Receives him: now the moonlight as he runs
Embraces him--but he must go--is gone.
Ah, once again he turns--thanks, thanks, my Love!
He's gone. Oh, I'll believe him every word!
I was so young, I loved him so, I had
No mother, God forgot me, and I fell.
There may be pardon yet: all's doubt beyond!
Surely the bitterness of death is past.

ACT II
SCENE.--The Library
Enter LORD TRESHAM, hastily
TRESHAM. This way! In, Gerard, quick!
[As GERARD enters, TRESHAM secures the door.]
Now speak! or, wait--
I'll bid you speak directly.


Pages:
15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39