Part 17 (1/2)

Locrine, Locrine!

LOCRINE.

Thou wouldst not: do not mock me then, Saying out of evil heart, in evil jest, Thy trust is dead to meward.

ESTRILD.

King of men, Wouldst thou, being only of all men lordliest, Be lord of women's thoughts and loving fears?

Nay, wert thou less than lord of worlds and years, Of stars and suns and seasons, couldst thou dream To take such empire on thee?

LOCRINE.

Nay, not I - No more than she there playing beside the stream To slip within a stormier stream and die.

ESTRILD.

She runs too near the brink. Sabrina!

LOCRINE.

See, Her hands are lily-laden: let them be A flower-sweet symbol for us.

Enter SABRINA.

SABRINA.

Sire! O sire, See what fresh flowers--you knew not these before - The spring has brought, to serve my heart's desire, Forth of the river's barren bed! no more Will I rebuke these banks for sterile sloth When spring restores the woodlands. By my troth, I hoped not, when you came again, to bring So large a tribute worth so full a smile.

LOCRINE.

Child! how should I to thee pay tribute?

ESTRILD.

King, Thou hast not kissed her.

LOCRINE.

Dare my lips defile Heaven? O my love, in sight of her and thee I marvel how the sun should look on me And spare to turn his beams to fire.

ESTRILD.

The child Hears, and is troubled.

SABRINA.

Did I wrong, to say 'Sire?' but you bade me say so. He is mild, And will not chide me. Father!

ESTRILD.

Hear'st thou?