That has been friendly to us but the kisses
That were upon our lips, and when we are old
Their memory will be all the life we have.
DEIDRE.
There was a man that loved me. He was old;
I could not love him. Now I can but fear.
He has made promises, and brought me home;
But though I turn it over in my thoughts,
I cannot tell if they are sound and wholesome,
Or hackles on the hook.