It stings a little! … Help me, Warwick! Oh!
[He supports her to the couch, and she sits.]
Groom. You've taken poison? Have I drunk it, too?
Lady S. No, Warwick; I took it all. I want to die.
Help me; embrace me; hold me! Oh, what pain!
Let me lie down.
[He lays her on the couch.]
Inflexible as love,
Death rends and hurts at first; but soon its way
Is like a summer voyage in the south.
What bells are these? That music in the air?
I know!—the stealthy hansoms jingling past
With doors half open, nightly traps to catch
Adventurous lovers. Cafés disengage
Self-centred diners fed and flushed to dream
Of deeds of love in glimmering theatres,
The woman and the man, till it be time
To take each other sweetly. Kiss me, Warwick.
You have your arms about me?
Groom. Yes.
Lady S. I die
Wrapped round about with youth and love and life.
The earth is like a chariot of fire
Wheeling into the Sun. Good night.
[Dies.]
Groom. Good night.
Nothing is wonderful since all is wonder.
[He covers Lady Sumner's body with her cloak. Then he takes from his breast-pocket a long sheath-knife.]