And counted your stars, the seven and one,
Like the fingers of my hand:
Nay, I could all but understand
Wherefore through heaven the white moon ranges;
And just when out of her soft fifty changes
No unfamiliar face might overlook me—
Suddenly God took me. [Pippa passes.
Mon. [Springing up.] My people—one and all—all—within there! Gag this villain—tie him hand and foot! He dares ... I know not half he dares—but remove him—quick! Miserere mei, Domine! Quick, I say!
Pippa's Chamber again. She enters it.
The bee with his comb,