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It cannot be, and you a god? I'll bow

      Before your eyes no more! – say that it can!

      Antonio: Not yet – not now. Hæmon's suspicious, quick,

      And melancholy: must be won with service.

      And you are Greek, a name till yesterday

      I never knew pass in the portal to

      My father's ear, but it came out his mouth

      Headlong and dark with curses.

      Helena: Yet of late

      He oft has smiled upon me as he passed.

      Antonio: On you – my father? O, he only dreamt,

      And saw you not.

      Helena: Then have you also dreamt!

      He looked as you, when, moonlight in my hair,

      You call me —

      Antonio: Stay: I'll call you so no more.

      Helena: You'll call me so no more?

      Antonio: No more.

      Helena: Why do

      You say so – is it kind?

      Antonio: Why? – why? Because

      Words were they miracles of beauty could

      As little reveal you as a taper's ray

      The lone profundity and space of night!

      Helena: And yet —

      Antonio: And yet?

      Helena: I'll hold you not too false

      If sometimes they trip out upon your lips.

      Antonio: Or to my father's eye?

      Helena: If he but look

      Upon me for thy sake.

      Antonio: He smiled, you say?

      Helena: Gently, as one might in forgetting pain.

      Antonio: Perhaps: for some unwonted softness seems

      Near him. But yesterday he called for song,

      Dancing and wine.

      Helena: Then tell him! These are years

      So dyed in crime that secrecy must seem

      Yoke-mate of guilt.

      Antonio: Fear has bewitched you – shame!

      Helena: Antonio, love's wave has cast us high

      I would do all lest now it turn to fate

      Under our feet and draw us out —

      Antonio: 'Twill not!

Enter Paula

      Paula: My lady, some one comes.

      Helena: And is the world

      Not space enough but he must needs come here!

      If it were – ?

      Antonio: Hæmon? – 'Twere perhaps not ill.

      Helena: I know not! Broodings smoulder from his moods

      Feverous bitter.

      Antonio: Kindness then shall quench them.

      But now, away. Forget this dread and be you

      By day my lark, by night my nightingale,

      Not a sad bird of boding!

      Helena: With the day

      All will be well.

      Antonio: Remember then you are

      Only a little slept from your life's shore

      Out on the infinite of love, whose air

      Is awe and mystery.

      Helena: I go, my lord.

      Think of me oft!

      Antonio (taking her in his arms): My Helena!

      (She goes with Paula. He steps aside and watches the approaching forms.)

      'Tis Hæmon!

      My father!

Enter Charles friendly, with Hæmon

      Charles: So, no farther? you'll stop here?

      Hæmon: Sir, if you grant it. I —

      Charles (twittingly): Some rendezvous?

      Who is she? Ah, young blood and Spring and night!

      Hæmon: No rendezvous, my lord.

      Charles: Some lay then you

      Would muse on?

      Hæmon: Yes, a lay.

      Charles: And one of love?

      The word, you see, founts easy to my lips.

      (With confidential archness.) 'Tis recent in my thought – as you will learn.

      Hæmon: How, sir, and when?

      Charles: O, when? Be not surprised! —

      Well, to the lay!

(He goes.

      Hæmon: Cruel! His soldiers waste

      The bread of honesty, the hope of age!

      Are drunken, bloody, indolent, and lust

      To tear all innocence away and robe

      Our loveliest in shame! – Yet me, a Greek,

      He suddenly befriends!

      Antonio (coming forward): Hæmon —

      Hæmon: Ah, you?

      Antonio: There's room between your tone and courtesy.

      Hæmon: And shall be while I'm readier to bend

      Over a beggar's pain than prince's fingers.

      Antonio: And yet you know me better —

      Hæmon: Than to believe

      You're not Antonio, son of Charles di Tocca?

      Antonio: I'd be your friend.

      Hæmon: So would he: and he smiles.

      Antonio: There are deep reasons for it.

      Hæmon: With him too!

      Against a miracle, you are his heir!

      Antonio: I think it would be well for you to listen.

      My confidence once curbed —

      Hæmon: May bite and paw?

      Let it! for fools are threats, and cowards. Were

      You Tamerlane and mine the skull should cap

      A bloody pyramid of enemies,

      I'd – !

      Antonio: Hear me. Will you be so blind?

      Hæmon: To your

      Fair graces? No, my lord – not so. Your sword

      And doublet are sublimely worn! sublimely!

      Your curls would tempt an empress' fingers, and —

      Antonio: Why is my anger silent?

      Hæmon: Let it

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