I am kissing your little white feet. It is like brushing my face amongst sprays of silken flowers.
Duchess
Ah, do not talk beautifully to me, Gwymplane.
Gwymplane
But you are beauty! What other language would you understand?
Duchess
Do not talk to me beautifully, Gwymplane. Talk to me with the savage pulsating words of your clown language. Talk to me as if you held a whip in your hand. [She catches at his hand] What marvellous hands you have! Deceitful hands—for they look unlike the things they do—the things they must do.
Gwymplane
[Sitting upon her couch and bending over her lips.]
I think you are something I have stolen out of a temple—a wonderful wingèd crownèd figure that I have stolen out of a temple and profaned. I feel as if we were in a black barge upon a scarlet sea, as if in a moment it would dip over the horizon line and we should be lost forever together. O, I feel as if all the light in the world were flowing from behind the chalice of your pale face. I love you, I love you.