V:1:3 COUN.
Think you he'll come
To visit us? Methinks he'll never come.
V:1:4 ORAN.
He's but four leagues away. This vicinage
Argues a frequent presence.
V:1:5 COUN.
But three nights --
Have only three nights past? It is an epoch
Distant and dim with passion. There are seasons
Feelings crowd on so, time not flies but staggers;
And memory poises on her burthened plumes
To gloat upon her prey. Spoke he of coming?
V:1:6 ORAN.
His words were scant and wild, and yet he murmured
That I should see him.
V:1:7 COUN.
I've not seen him since
That fatal night, yet even that glance of terror --
I'd hail it now. O, Oran, Oran, think you
He ever more will love me? Can I do
Aught to regain his love? They say your people
Are learned in these questions. Once I thought
There was no spell like duty -- that devotion
Would bulwark love for ever. Now, I'd distil
Philtres, converse with moonlit hags, defile
My soul with talismans, bow down to spirits,
And frequent accursed places, all, yea all --
I'd forfeit all -- but to regain his love.
V:1:8 ORAN.
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