Mauling your love and beauty with its lies:
I hold a power like light to shrivel it—
There, in your throat’s hollow—that green jade.
[He snatches at it as she lets it fall. He grows white and troubled, and walks to where Amak is playing, and sees minutely strewn pieces of paper.]
[He mutters.] Lost—lost.
The child has torn the scroll in it,
And half is away. It cannot be spelt now.
Lilith
God, restore me his love.
Ah! Well!