The Works of Christopher Marlowe Volume III Part 49

_Enter_ CECILIA.

CECILIA.

Thoughtful sir, How fare you? Thou'st been reading much of late, By the moon's light, I fear me?

MARLOWE.

Why so, lady?

CECILIA.

The reflex of the page is on thy face.

MARLOWE.

But in my heart the spirit of a shrine Burns, with immortal radiation crown'd.

CECILIA.

Nay, primrose gentleman, think'st me a saint?

MARLOWE.

I feel thy power.

CECILIA.

I exercise no arts-- Whence is my influence?

MARLOWE.

From heaven, I think.

Madam, I love you--ere to-day you've seen it, Although my lips ne'er breathed the word before; And seldom as we've met and briefly spoken, There are such spiritual pa.s.sings to and fro 'Twixt thee and me--though I alone may suffer-- As make me know this love blends with my life; Must branch with it, bud, blossom, put forth fruit, Nor end e'en when its last husks strew the grave, Whence we together shall ascend to bliss.

CECILIA.

Continued from this world?

MARLOWE.

Thy hand, both hands; I kiss them from my soul!

CECILIA.

Nay, sir, you burn me-- Let loose my hands!

MARLOWE.

I loose them--half my life has thus gone from me!-- That which is left can scarce contain my heart, Now grown too full with the high tide of joy, Whose ebb, retiring, fills the caves of sorrow, Where Syrens sing beneath their dripping hair, And raise the mirror'd fate.

CECILIA.

Then, gaze not in it, Lest thou should'st see thy pa.s.sing funeral.

I would not--I might chance to see far worse.

MARLOWE.

Thou art too beautiful ever to die!

I look upon thee, and can ne'er believe it.

CECILIA.

O, sir--but pa.s.sion, circ.u.mstance, and fate, Can do far worse than kill: they can dig graves, And make the future owners dance above them, Well knowing how 'twill end. Why look you sad?

'Tis not your case; you are a man in love-- At least, you say so--and should therefore feel A constant suns.h.i.+ne, wheresoe'er you tread, Nor think of what's beneath. But speak no more: I see a volume gathering in your eye Which you would fain have printed in my heart; But you were better cast it in the fire.

Enough you've said, and I enough have listened.

MARLOWE.

I have said naught.

CECILIA.

You have spoken very plain-- So, Master Marlowe, please you, break we off; And, since your mind is now relieved--good day!

MARLOWE.

Leave me not thus!--forgive me!

CECILIA.

For what offence

MARLOWE.

The expression of my love.

CECILIA.

Tut! that's a trifle.

Think'st thou I ne'er saw men in love before?

Unto the summer of beauty they are common As gra.s.shoppers.

MARLOWE.

And to its winter, lady?

CECILIA.

There is no winter in my thoughts--adieu!