TRESHAM. Ah, you guessed aright! I am not well: there is no hiding it. But tell her I would see her at her leisure-- That is, at once! here in the library! The passage in that old Italian book We hunted for so long is found, say, found-- And if I let it slip again... you see, That she must come--and instantly! GUENDOLEN. I'll die Piecemeal, record that, if there have not gloomed Some blot i' the 'scutcheon! TRESHAM. Go! or, Guendolen, Be you at call,--With Austin, if you choose,-- In the adjoining gallery! There go! [GUENDOLEN goes.] Another lesson to me! You might bid A child disguise his heart's sore, and conduct Some sly investigation point by point With a smooth brow, as well as bid me catch The inquisitorial cleverness some praise. If you had told me yesterday, "There's one You needs must circumvent and practise with, Entrap by policies, if you would worm The truth out: and that one is--Mildred!" There, There--reasoning is thrown away on it! Prove she's unchaste... why, you may after prove That she's a poisoner, traitress, what you will! Where I can comprehend nought, nought's to say, Or do, or think. Force on me but the first Abomination,--then outpour all plagues, And I shall ne'er make count of them. Enter MILDRED MILDRED. What book Is it I wanted, Thorold? Guendolen Thought you were pale; you are not pale. That book? That's Latin surely. TRESHAM. Mildred, here's a line, (Don't lean on me: I'll English it for you) "Love conquers all things." What love conquers them? What love should you esteem--best love? MILDRED. True love. TRESHAM. I mean, and should have said, whose love is best Of all that love or that profess to love? MILDRED. The list's so long: there's father's, mother's, husband's...