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ave come at midnight--a most honest hour. Enter this postern--a most honest way, And seem most honest--Why, I could not, sir! HAEMON: You wrong me, and have wronged me. I but come To loose my sister. CHARLES: As to-day you would Have loosed her with a piercing--into death? HAEMON: Rather, could I! Antonio--yet neither. Since you, not he, are here, my passion melts Into a plea. Humbly as manhood may-- CHARLES: This fever still? HAEMON: This fever! Must I be As ice while soiling flames leap out at her? And passionless--as one cold in a trance? Rigid while she in stealth is drugged to shame? Be voiceless and be vain, unstung, and still? I must wait softly while her innocence Is drained as virgin freshness from the morn?-- Though he were twice Antonio and your son, An emperor and a god, I would not! CHARLES: Ever, And ever bent upon Antonio? Be not a torrent, boy, of rush and foam. Be not, of roar!--Yet--look: Antonio? You said Antonio? HAEMON: Yes. CHARLES (_troubled_): You did ill To say it! He's my son. HAEMON: I care not. CHARLES: Have You cause--a ground--some reason? Men should when Suspicions curve their lips. HAEMON: Cause! reason! CHARLES: No: He is my son. His flesh has memories That would cry out and curdle him to madness, Palsy and strangle every pregnant wish, Or bring in him compassion like a flood. HAEMON (_contemptuous_): O----? CHARLES: Never!--Yet, a lurking at my brain! _Enter PAULA, hurriedly._ PAULA: My lord Antonio! my lady! (_Seeing CHARLES._) O! CHARLES (_strangely_): Come here. PAULA: O, sir! CHARLES (_taking her wrist_): Were you not in a haste? PAULA: I--I--I do not know. CHARLES: Girl!--Why do you Drop fearful to your knees? PAULA: 'Tis late, sir, late, Let me go in! CHARLES: You have a mistress who Keeps quick temptation in her eyes and hair. A shy mole too lies pillowed on her cheek-- Does she rest well? PAULA: My lord---- CHARLES: Ah, you would say She sometimes walks asleep: and you have come To fetch her?
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