DUKE. Kiss not a dead man's lips—there's poison in them!
SWANWHITE. Sweet poison if it bring me death—that death in which I seek my life!
DUKE. They say, my child, the dead cannot gain union by willing it; and what was loved in life has little worth beyond.
SWANWHITE. And love? Should then its power not extend to the other side of death?
DUKE. Our wise men have denied it.
SWANWHITE. Then he must come to me—back to this earth. O gracious Lord, please let him out of heaven again!
DUKE. A foolish prayer!
SWANWHITE. I cannot pray—woe's me! The evil eye still rules this place.
DUKE. You're thinking of the monster which the sunbeams pricked. The stake for her—let her without delay be burned alive!
SWANWHITE. Burn her?—Alive?—Oh, no! Let her depart in peace!