MRS GEORGE [with intensely sad reproach] When you loved me I gave you the whole sun and stars to play with. I gave you eternity in a single moment, strength of the mountains in one clasp of your arms, and the volume of all the seas in one impulse of your souls. A moment only; but was it not enough? Were you not paid then for all the rest of your struggle on earth? Must I mend your clothes and sweep your floors as well? Was it not enough? I paid the price without bargaining: I bore the children without flinching: was that a reason for heaping fresh burdens on me? I carried the child in my arms: must I carry the father too? When I opened the gates of paradise, were you blind? was it nothing to you? When all the stars sang in your ears and all the winds swept you into the heart of heaven, were you deaf? were you dull? was I no more to you than a bone to a dog? Was it not enough? We spent eternity together; and you ask me for a little lifetime more. We possessed all the universe together; and you ask me to give you my scanty wages as well. I have given you the greatest of all things; and you ask me to give you little things. I gave you your own soul: you ask me for my body as a plaything. Was it not enough? Was it not enough? SOAMES. Do you understand this, my lord? THE BISHOP. I have that advantage over you, Anthony, thanks to Alice. [He takes Mrs George's hand]. Your hand is very cold. Can you come down to earth? Do you remember who I am, and who you are? MRS GEORGE. It was enough for me. I did not ask to meet you--to touch you--[the Bishop quickly releases her hand]. When you spoke to my soul years ago from your pulpit, you opened the doors of my salvation to me; and now they stand open for ever. It was enough: I have asked you for nothing since: I ask you for nothing now. I have lived: it is enough. I have had my wages; and I am ready for my work. I thank you and bless you and leave you. You are happier in that than I am; for when I do for men what you did for me, I have no thanks, and no blessing: I am their prey; and there is no rest from their loving and no mercy from their loathing. THE BISHOP. You must take us as we are, Mrs Collins. SOAMES. No. Take us as we are capable of becoming. MRS GEORGE. Take me as I am: I ask no more. [She turns her head to the study door and cries] Yes: come in, come in. Hotchkiss comes softly in from the study. HOTCHKISS. Will you be so kind as to tell me whether I am dreaming? In there I have heard Mrs Collins saying the strangest things, and not a syllable from you two. SOAMES. My lord; is this possession by the devil? THE BISHOP. Or the ecstasy of a saint? HOTCHKISS. Or the convulsion of the pythoness on the tripod? THE BISHOP. May not the three be one?