Duchess
[Stretching herself and smiling upon him.]
How happy I am with you, my distorted lover! Only I wish you had not taken the white paint from your face. I wish your lips were fantastically scarlet as when you danced. I wish you were in your clown's dress and that the circus dwarfs could be here, playing their evil music while we talked. Kiss me.
Gwymplane
[Drawing away and gazing at her in rapture.]
But my heart is here, underneath your slender foot. O, my heart has no will of its own but is only a reckless fever leaping, shivering after crumbs of your favour.
[He is about to kiss her, when suddenly the Duchess turns aside—an odd numbness creeping over her features.]
Duchess
Something is wrong—terribly wrong. You do not speak to me like a clown. You are not like a clown. Who are you—what are you really?
Gwymplane