Oh, Mildred, look to me, at least!
Thorold--she's dead, I'd say, but that she stands
Rigid as stone and whiter!
TRESHAM. You have heard...
GUENDOLEN. Too much! You must proceed no further.
MILDRED. Yes--
Proceed! All's truth. Go from me!
TRESHAM. All is truth,
She tells you! Well, you know, or ought to know,
All this I would forgive in her. I'd con
Each precept the harsh world enjoins, I'd take
Our ancestors' stern verdicts one by one,
I'd bind myself before then to exact
The prescribed vengeance--and one word of hers,
The sight of her, the bare least memory
Of Mildred, my one sister, my heart's pride
Above all prides, my all in all so long,
Would scatter every trace of my resolve.
What were it silently to waste away
And see her waste away from this day forth,
Two scathed things with leisure to repent,
And grow acquainted with the grave, and die
Tired out if not at peace, and be forgotten?
It were not so impossible to bear.
But this--that, fresh from last night's pledge renewed
Of love with the successful gallant there,
She calmly bids me help her to entice,
Inveigle an unconscious trusting youth
Who thinks her all that's chaste and good and pure,
--Invites me to betray him... who so fit
As honour's self to cover shame's arch-deed?
--That she'll receive Lord Mertoun--(her own phrase)--
This, who could bear? Why, you have heard of thieves,
Stabbers, the earth's disgrace, who yet have laughed,
"Talk not to me of torture--I'll betray
No comrade I've pledged faith to!"--you have heard
Of wretched women--all but Mildreds--tied
By wild illicit ties to losels vile
You'd tempt them to forsake; and they'll reply
"Gold, friends, repute, I left for him, I find
In him, why should I leave him then, for gold,
Repute or friends?"--and you have felt your heart
Respond to such poor outcasts of the world
As to so many friends; bad as you please,
You've felt they were God's men and women still,
So, not to be disowned by you.
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