Gla. Into that world? No, thou shalt stay with me.
Here you shall be a king, not serve one. Ah,
The whispering winds do never counsel false,
And senatorial trees droop not their state
To tribe and treachery. Nature's self shall be
Your minister, the seasons your envoys
And high ambassadors, bearing from His court
The mortal olive of immortal love.
Hen. To man my life belongs. Hope not, dear Glaia,
To bind me here; and if you love me true,
You will not ask me where I go or stay,
But that your feet may stay or go with mine.
Let not a nay unsweet those tender lips
That all their life have ripened for this kiss.
[Kisses her]
O ruby purities! I would not give
Their chaste extravagance for fruits Iran
Stored with the honey of a thousand suns
Through the slow measure of as many years!
Gla. Do brothers talk like that?
Hen. I think not, sweet
Gla. But you will be my brother?
Hen. We shall see.
Gla. And you will stay with me? No? Ah, I fear
All that you love in me is born of these
Wild innocences that I live among,
And far from here, all such sweet value lost,
I'll be as others are in your mad world,
Or wither mortally, even as the sprig
A moment gone so pertly trimmed this bough.
Let us stay here, my Henry. We shall be
Dear playmates ever, never growing old,—
Or if we do 'twill be at such a pace
Time will grow weary chiding, leaving us
To come at will.
Hen. No, Glaia. Even now
I must be gone. I came for this——to say
I'd come again, and bid you watch for me.
A tear? O, love! One moment, then away!
[Exeunt. Curtain]