Two dramatic poems by Menella Bute Smedley | ||
Scene III.
Grey—Avice—Carlton—Vernon.GREY
You may learn too much
From such unwary teaching. What needs he
To gain from other hearts? I do not like
This fingering of strange gold with coffers full.
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He should have seen no face but hers, until
It had possessed him with its image, so
That he judged yours by it, and made a fault
Of every difference. She is fair enough—
Why were you here?
AVICE
O, uncle, be not hard!
Could I, whose life is yours, shut out myself
From your life's brightest hour? So you would make me
Merely an outcast. He hath learnt her now,
He did but miss his way: he is at home,
And in the safe and pleasant light recounts
How for a moment his stray footsteps risked
A loss, which being now impossible
His memory laughs at.
GREY
Tush, his memory!
Why should he think of it at all?
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He will not—
Nay, I am sure he does not; he has dropped
The trifle; let it lie—who takes it up
And sets it in new light for him to see
Is not his friend, nor wise.
GREY
What, do you teach me?
Whence grew your mighty wisdom? Let me tell you
I preached before you lisped. Why, you lisp still;
I hear the milk about your speech. Have done!
But that you are a lady, I would tell you
Reasons are not like stitches, each to each
Joined by the joining, not by natural growth;
They live, my girl, they live, and shape themselves;
We find, but cannot make them. You can tat;
Suppose you do.
[To Carlton.
Whence grew your mighty wisdom? Let me tell you
I preached before you lisped. Why, you lisp still;
I hear the milk about your speech. Have done!
But that you are a lady, I would tell you
Reasons are not like stitches, each to each
Joined by the joining, not by natural growth;
They live, my girl, they live, and shape themselves;
We find, but cannot make them. You can tat;
Suppose you do.
If you can spare me time,
I'd gladly hear some details of your art
Which works so like divinity.
I'd gladly hear some details of your art
Which works so like divinity.
CARLTON
I'll show you
All that I can.
[Exeunt Carlton and Grey.
Two dramatic poems by Menella Bute Smedley | ||