 | St. Clement's Eve |  |
Scene IV.
—Another Apartment in the Convent.—Flos de Flavy and Raiz de Vezelay.Flos.
Talk not to me of love; I loathe its name
More than blue plague or the unburied corse
That none dares touch. Give me thy hand; I have it;
But is it mine?
De Vezelay.
For ever and for ever!
Flos.
Mine for all work that I shall put it to?
De Vezelay.
In all submission thine.
Flos.
Now give me this;
[Draws his dagger from its sheath.
Thy dagger's haft is fashion'd to a cross,
As though for handling by some Christian Knight
Apt to avenge a woman. Vain pretence!
Oh empty emblem! Out of date in France.
214
Save in a tavern brawl?
De Vezelay.
Now by my soul
You do us less than justice. Women's wrongs
Find yet in France avengers.
Flos.
Is it so?
Then swear upon this Cross to prove it so.
Swear to avenge me, and be swift to strike—
I say not whom, lest naming of his name
My lips be wither'd and my human speech
Turn'd to a serpent's hiss.
De Vezelay.
That do I swear;
And by what's holiest in the heart of man
I hold myself herein God's minister
Of wrath and judgment, and your will as His.
Flos.
Give me thy hand again. It is too white.
I dedicate this hand to truth and love,
And hatred and revenge. White as mine own!
Dye it and bring it back to me to-morrow,
And I will clasp it to my heart. Farewell.
| St. Clement's Eve | |