_Kent._ We ne'er shall know. I've foes enough, and one of them perhaps So sought to cast me deeper by this crime, And we shall wear his foul and scarlet mark Even unto our graves,--for we must die. _Mar._ Enough that we die sinless. _Kent._ O, my love, Who would have died for me! _Mar._ And you, dear lord, Who took such shame upon you for my sake! _Kent._ Death was already on me, and 'twas naught To make addition to my guilt. But you, Your heart not pausing, leapt from safety's shore Into the flood. O, might I live for thee! A blessed bondman to thy merest wish, From hour to hour to watch thy graces bloom As various as Flora when she loves, And in each furrow of thy brow that writ Thee mortal set a new April mocking Time! Then when no more I could dispute his doom, Enter with thee a star-lit, sweet old age, The fane of rest, and sanctuary where All sorrows take their ease. _Mar._ Think thou of Heaven. _Kent._ But O, how dear this life! The immortal world Is shrunk to shadow of a single thought, And this contemned earth is sudden grown Past circumscription of the mind's fond eye. No-no--we must not die! _Mar._ Wouldst tremble now? When thou hast love beside thee? Nay, my lord, Be yet the man of men, whose virtue drew My wild resisting heart into its sun. _Kent._ O, must we leave it all?--the gracious earth Where we have loved, and heard the robins sing, And built our nest that song might never cease? Ah, I am weak, my sweet, and shine but in The doting tear that dims a true wife's eye. _Mar._ 'Tis not my love that paints thee radiant, But thy own light illumes my eyes to love, O, lord of mine, the kings of earth in vain May hope to be thy shadowy parallel, And where we go, in any court of air Or cloud or heaven, still must thou be the one Excelling star. _Kent._ [_Clasping her_] Heart of the sun, beat here! O, thy immortal fire will make Death warm Ere he can make thee cold. [_The turnkey opens door at end of corridor_] _Mar._ My life, my soul! _Kent._ O, God! Celestial marshaller of chance To some far end of good, let me believe Thy hand is here, and even on our heads. [_The turnkey comes down_] Ah, kiss me, kiss me, Heaven's Margaret. Could I my life concentrate in one beat I'd dwarf it so and give it in this kiss. [_Curtain_] SCENE 3. _A room in the earl of Albemarle's palace. A friar, and the king in friar's dress, but uncowled, waiting._