Collected Works (Vol. III)

WHY JESUS WEPT 27 (Nay, you are cold! Like a dead man, perhaps !) I would get gladness of the royal force Of armed insistence against my restraint. ‘What is worth while, though, to a woman found Fragrant and fearful to a host of men Even yet? they throng me, hunt me! should I Do this unutterable wickedness? Because that Moina Marjoribanks grins and boasts She will achieve him? Angela, not so! For its own sweet, most damnable sake, say yes | Why Look to those cheeks, redress the red-gold | hair, Awake the giant wit, the master sin That is, for an apple’s sake, Lord of us all: These shall despoil her; these shall ruin him. Yes, I shall clutch him to these sagging breasts Stained, bruised,—enough !—and take his life in mine— Ugh ! pleasure of Hell ! Sir Percy Percivale,! Here is a strumpet. Ha! have you a sword? Enough. Iam dressed. communed With my dark heart : I see my way to it :— Oh joy! joy ! joy !—Hortense, these candles out ! [Zhe maid blows out the mirror candles. I will go down. Prepare my_ scented paper, My rosy wax against my coming here— When, girl? I’ th’ morn, i’ th’ morn! When else? I’d write. [She goes out, with a set smile on her face, yet a gleam of real laughter beneath tt, I am lovely, have 1 Sir Percivale, in Morte d Arthur, being enamoured of a lady, caused a bed to be pre- pared. But laying his sword therein—and in that sword was a reed cross and the sign of the crucifix—she was discovered to be the devil. See Malory, xiv. 9. SCENE V. To CARRUTHERS, 2 the Office of SiR PERCY’s Ancestval Hall, enter GREUMOCH, GREUMOCH, Ay, sir. The laddie’s in the thick o’t! Weel! She'll be off tae th’ muir, a’m thinkin, sin’ the dee. CARRUTHERS. He goes to solitude? GREUMOCH. Weel, weel, sir, na ! She wadna say the laddie wad gang yon. CARRUTHERS (smiling), He is ever alone? GREUMOCH. Oo ay, sir, by his lanes. CARRUTHERS. Go now, and tell me ever of his doings. [ Aazt GREUMOCH. The hour is nigh, but when that hour may strike None, not the wisest, may foretell. I fear A moment’s mischief may destroy these years Of grave solicitude, their work. This boy Thinks his grey father dead. These words (tapping a letter) shall speak Even from the tomb. These words shall be obeyed By force of ancient habit : these give me Supreme authority to exercise By stealth, not overt till the hour be come Should madness seat herself upon the lad, And he turn serpent on his friends. But no! There is too strong a discipline of sense, Too cool a brain, too self-controlled a heart :— Well, we shall see. (Zeer ns to his books.