Part 58

That is not much to ask.

(She steps in through the window.)

MARLOWE.

Nor much for you to grant; but O, to me That moment is a circle without bounds,-- Because I see no end to my delight!

CECILIA.

O, sir, you make me very sad at heart; Let's speak no more of this. I am on my way To walk beside the river.

MARLOWE.

May I come?

CECILIA.

Ah, no; I'll go alone.

MARLOWE.

'Tis dark and dismal; Nor do I deem it safe!

CECILIA.

What can harm me? If not above, at least I am beyond All common dangers. No, you shall not come. I have some questions I would ask myself; And in the sullen, melancholy flow O' the unromantic Thames, that has been witness Of many tragical realities, Bare of adornment as its cold stone stairs, I may find sympathy, if not response.

MARLOWE.

You find both here. I know thy real life; We do not see the truth--or, O, how little! Pure light sometimes through painted windows streams; And, when all's dark around thee, thou art fair! Thou bear'st within an ever-burning lamp, To me more sacred than a vestal's shrine; For she may be of heartless chastity, False in all else, and proud of her poor ice, As though 'twere fire suppress'd; but thou art good For goodness' sake;--true-hearted, lovable, For truth and honour's sake; and such a woman, That man who wins, the gods themselves may envy.

CECILIA (going).

Considering all things, this is bitter sweet.

MARLOWE.

And I may come? (following her)

CECILIA (firmly).

You shall not.

MARLOWE.

I obey you.

CECILIA (tenderly).

Ah! Kit Marlowe,-- You think too much of me--and of yourself Too little!

MARLOWE.

Then I may----(advancing)