Peace? The man thou art Craves—and shame bids not breath within him cease— Craves of the woman that thou knowest I am Peace? Ay, take hands at parting, and release Each heart, each hand, each other: shall the lamb, The lamb-like woman, born to cower and bleed, Withstand his will whose choice may save or damn Her days and nights, her word and thought and deed— Take heart to outdare her lord the lion? How Should this be—if the lion’s imperial seed Life not against his sire as brave a brow As frowns upon his mother?—Peace be then Between us: none may stand before thee now: No son of thine keep faith with Guendolen. MADAN. I have held my peace perforce, it seems, too long, Being slower of speech than sons of meaner men. But seeing my sire hath done my mother wrong, My hand is hers to serve against my sire. GUENDOLEN. And God shall make thine hand against him strong. LOCRINE. Ay: when the hearthstead flames, the roof takes fire. GUENDOLEN. Woe worth his hand who set the hearth on flame! LOCRINE. Curse not our fathers; though thy fierce desire Drive thine own son against his father, shame Should rein thy tongue from speech too shameless. GUENDOLEN. Ay! And thou, my holy-hearted lord,—the same Whose hand was laid in mine and bound to lie There fast for ever if faith be found on earth— If truth be true, and shame not wholly die— Hast thou not made thy mockery and thy mirth, Thy laughter and thy scorn, of shame? But we, Thy wife by wedlock, and thy son by birth, Who have no part in spirit and soul with thee, Will bear no part in kingdom nor in life With one who hath put to shame his child and me. Thy true-born son, and I that was thy wife, Will see thee dead or perish. Call thy men About thee; bid them gird their loins for strife More dire than theirs who storm the wild wolf’s den; For if thou dare not slay us here today Thou art dead. LOCRINE. Thou knowest I dare not, Guendolen, Dare what the ravenous beasts whose life is prey Dream not of doing, though drunk with bloodshed. GUENDOLEN.