David. O lips!
Michal. With but
A sling, a shepherd's sling, you sped the brook,
Drew from its bed a stone, and up the hill
Where the great Philistine contemning cried,
Mounted and flung it deep upon his brain!
David. This is the victory and not his death!
Tell, tell thy joy with kisses on my lips!
Thy mouth! thy arms! thy breast!
Michal. No no!
David. Thy soul!
(Clasps her.)
Too much of waiting and of severance,
Of dread and distance and the deep of doubt!
Now must I fold you, falter all my love
And triumph on your senses till they burn
Beautiful to eternity with bliss.
Michel. Loose, loose me!
David. Nay, again! immortal kisses!
Michal. A frenzy, 'tis a frenzy! From me! see!
This irremediable victory
Over Goliath severs us the more.