duke.
I sought her, and the truth unto her ear
I utter'd. Was it well?
hermione.
'Twere answer'd best
In the concealed purpose unto which
Truth's outward semblance serv'd. What meaning else
Behind it crouch'd?
duke.
That we might part for ever.
hermione.
For ever!—Yes—'twas well!
What answer gave she?
duke.
Answer?—Oh—'twas well!
Then we must part, Hermione?
hermione.
We part!
Wherefore for ever?
duke.
I would not again
Cringe in thy burning glance,—and yet—I might—
This foolish heart its vanish'd dream forgot—
Unmoved endure thy presence! Bitter the pang!
I could not say for ever! I should cling
As the doom'd wretch to life, loosing his hold
But with the heart's last throb!
hermione.
I cannot counsel thus!
Alas! more need some power above our own
To tear us hence—to sever. You will forget
This idle thought—'tis but a vagrant breath,
Stirring your past affections—they respond
Untouch'd, when memory wakes the soft still voice
Of other years. Their echoes o'er, again
Peace, haply frighted thence, your bosom visits.
I would not now for ever part!
duke.
Then for a time—when absence
The torn heart heals, we meet again. Hermione,
For thee, in this night's converse, have I risk'd
My happiness, my hope, and every comfort
Which most I prize—my peace, my honour—all
Committed to thy trust—true confidence
If not in mutual charge—nor interchange
Of strict communion held. If one alone
The precious load entrusts, it is o'erbalanced
Without due counterpoise, reciprocal faith,
And it endures not. Tell me—nay, but listen—
This heart unfetter'd, offer'd thee, unplighted,
Would'st thou have ta'en?
hermione.
Indeed, I cannot now
Such wild words answer. Spare me but this trial—