GUENDOLEN.
Thou dost love then, thou, thy mother yet—
Me, dost thou love a little? None but thou
There is to love me; for the gods forget—
Nor shall one hear of me a prayer again;
Yea, none of all whose thrones in heaven are set
Shall hear, nor one of all the sons of men.
MADAN.
What wouldst thou have?
GUENDOLEN.
Thou knowest.
MADAN.
I know not. Speak.
GUENDOLEN.
Have I kept silence all this while?