Mayhap he’ll guess it, and if he should guess,
I’ll seek my knees, dumb, stripped of speech before him,
Pointing upon his sword-blade and my breast.
Kan.
Some dream has given you fright?
Rhod.
A dream? Oh no!
None was to waste on me; warning was lost
On my poor worth. The stone in crashing fall
May have its shadow for the eye to mark,