GUENDOLEN. Worse had it done to slay my lord, and spare Me. Wilt thou now show mercy toward me? Then Strike with that sword mine heart through—if thou dare. All know thy tongue’s edge deadly. CAMBER. Guendolen, Thou seest me like a vassal bound to bear All bitter words that bite the hearts of men From thee, so be it this please thy wrath. I stand Slave of thy tongue and subject of thine hand, And pity thee. Take, if thou wilt, my head; Give it my brother. Thou shalt hear me speak First, though the soothfast word that hangs unsaid As yet, being spoken,—albeit this hand be weak And faint this heart, thou sayest—should strike thee dead Even with that rose of wrath on brow and cheek. GUENDOLEN. I hold not thee too faint of heart to slay Women. Say forth whate’er thou hast heart to say. CAMBER. Silence I have not heart to keep, and see Scorn and derision gird thee round with shame, Not knowing what all thy serfs who mock at thee Know, and make mirth and havoc of thy name. Does this not move thee? GUENDOLEN. How should aught move me Fallen from such tongues as falsehood finds the same— Such tongues as fraud or treasonous hate o’erscurfs With leprous lust—a prince’s or a serf’s? CAMBER. That lust of the evil-speaking tongue which gives Quick breath to deadly lies, and stings to life The rottenness of falsehood, when it lives, Falls dumb, and leaves the lie to bring forth strife. The liar will say no more—his heart misgives His knaveship—should he sunder man and wife? Such, sister, in thy sight, it seems, am I. Yet shalt thou take, to keep or cast it by, The truth of shame I would not have thee hear,— Not might I choose,—but choose I may not. GUENDOLEN. Shame And truth? Shame never toward thine heart came near, And all thy life hath hung about thy name. Nor ever truth drew nigh the lips that fear Whitens, and makes the blood that feeds them tame. Speak all thou wilt—but even for shame, forsooth, Talk not of shame—and tell me not of truth. CAMBER. Then shalt thou hear a lie. Thy loving lord Loves none save thee; his heart’s pulse beats in thine; No fairer woman, captive of his sword, Caught ever captive and subdued Locrine: The god of lies bear witness. At the ford Of Humber blood was never shed like wine: Our brother Albanact lived, fought, and died, Never: and I that swear it have not lied. GUENDOLEN. Fairer? CAMBER. They say it: but what are lies to thee? GUENDOLEN. Art thou nor man nor woman?