RACHEL What can I say, my lord! It is true that since my eyes met yours, a new passion has entered into my soul. I have felt—your lordship will laugh at me—I have felt an inexpressible longing—but ’tis so impertinent, my lord, so absurd in me, a mere girl, and you a nobleman of power—yet I have felt it irresistibly, my dear lord,—a longing to help you. I am so sorry for you—so sorry for you! I pity you deeply.—Forgive me; forgive me, my lord!
RAVENSBANE It is enough.
RACHEL Indeed, indeed, ’tis so rude of me,—’tis so unreasonable.
RAVENSBANE It is enough. I grow—I grow—I grow! I am a plant; you give it rain and sun. I am a flower; you give it light and dew; I am a soul, you give it love and speech. I grow. Towards you—towards you I grow!
RACHEL My lord, I do not understand it, how so poor and mere a girl as I can have helped you. Yet I do believe it is so; for I feel it so. What can I do for you?
RAVENSBANE Do not leave me. Be mine. Let me be yours.
RACHEL Ah! but, my lord—do I love you?
RAVENSBANE What is “I love you”? Is it a kiss, a sigh, an embrace? Ah! then, you do not love me.—“I love you”: is it to nourish, to nestle, to lift up, to smile upon, to make greater—a worm? Ah! then, you love me. [Enter Richard at left back, unobserved.]
RACHEL Do not speak so of yourself, my lord; nor exalt me so falsely.
RAVENSBANE Be mine.