o not know your follies? I will wager
(If I could trap his countship into this!)
The rarest kisses I know how to give
Against the turquoise, that within a month
You'll grow so jealous--and without a cause,
Or with a reason thin as window glass--
That you will ache to kill me!

LARA. Will you so?
And I--let us clasp hands and kiss on it.

BEATRICE. Clasp hands, Sir Trustful; but not kiss--nay, nay!
I will not pay my forfeit till I lose.

LARA. And I'll not lose the forfeit.

BEATRICE. We shall see.

[_Exit_ BEATRICE.

LARA. She has as many fancies as the wind
Which now, like slumber, lies 'mong spicy isles,
Then suddenly blows white furrows in the sea!
Lovely and dangerous is my leopardess.
To-day, low-lying at my feet; to-morrow,
With great eyes flashing, threatening doleful death--
With strokes like velvet! She's no common clay,
But fire and dew and marble. I'll not throw
So rare a wonder in the lap o' the world!
Jealous? I am not jealous--though they say
Some sorts of love breed jealousy. And yet,
I would I had not wagered; it implies
Doubt. If I doubted? Pshaw! I'll walk awhile
And let the cool air fan me. 'Twas not wise.
'Tis only Folly with its cap and bells
Can jest with sad things. She seemed earnest, too.
What if, to pique me, she should overstep
The pale of modesty, and give bold eyes
(I could not bear that, nay, not even that!)
To Marc or Claudian? Why, such things have been
And no sin dreamed of. I will watch her close.
There, now, I wrong her.

Yet if she,
To win the turquoise of me, if she should--
O cursed jewels! Would that they were hung
About the glistening neck of some mermaid
A thousand fathoms underneath the sea!

[A PAGE _crosses the garden_.

That page again! 'Tis twice within the week
The supple-waisted, pretty-ankled knave
Has crossed my garden at this self-same hour,
Trolling a ca