ESTRILD.
But she,
Being wise, exceeds me: yet, so she divide not
Thine heart, my best-beloved of liars, with me,
I care not—nor I will not care. Some part
She hath had, it may be, of thy fond false heart—
Nay, couldst thou choose? but now, though she be fairer,
Let her take all or none: I will not be
Partaker of her perfect sway, nor sharer
With any on earth more dear or less to thee.
Nay, be not wroth: what wilt thou have me say?
That I can love thee less than she can? Nay,
Thou knowest I will not ill to her; but she—
Would she not burn my child and me with fire
To wreak herself, who loved thee once, on thee?
LOCRINE.
Thy fear is darker, child, than her desire.
ESTRILD.
I fear not her at all: I would not fear
The one thing fearful to me yet, who here
Sit walled around with waters and with woods
From all things fearful but the fear of change.
LOCRINE.
Fear thou not that: for nothing born eludes
Time; and the joy were sorrowful and strange
That should endure for ever. Yea, I think
Such joy would pray for sorrow’s cup to drink,
Such constancy desire an end, for mere
Long weariness of watching. Thou and I
Have all our will of life and loving here,—
A heavenlier heaven on earth: but we shall die,
And if we died not, love we might outlive
As now shall love outlive us.
ESTRILD.
We?