O, be not angry that the life of love Which you infuse in me, here at your feet, For further inspiration or for blight, Lies lowly, and the ground you tread on kisses. [Falls on the ground. Bellona. But what of that fair girl, your sweetheart there? Ringan. Talk not of her. I never loved her. No! I thought I did, for she was prettiest: But having seen you I have seen the sun, And never more will languish for a star. Bellona. You are a foolish boy. Ringan. What shall I do? [Goes out. Annie. O, he has left me! O, my heart will break! Herminia. His haste forgot his love. You should not weep. Annie. It was not haste. These ladies! O, my heart! Clown. I told you what to look for. Bellona. Out on you!-- Come, we'll devise a way to bring him back. [Mary-Jane, Bellona, and Annie go out. Clown follows. Antinous [singing]. The bee sucks honey from the flower Because the sweets are there: I love a maiden in her bower, Because the maiden's fair. The morning flower turns round his head To greet the rising sun; My love turns all to you, sweet maid, And so my song is done. [Antinous and Herminia go out. ACT III SCENE.--A Garden. Enter Lady Montgomery and Captain Mercer. Mercer. I'm glad we've met. How long ago was that? Lady M. Since she was stolen it is fourteen years; Yet in that time no tears have wet my eyes: For when we knew the darling child was lost, My husband all his other hopes gave up-- His office, and advancement, whose sure strides Pursued him constantly, dogged as time; His friends and schemes political; his fame, Which years and dignity bore shoulder-high: He gave them all to buy this little pearl Whose price exceeds the value of the world. O, in our heart her dainty shape is shrined, And keeps it pulsing; and she goes not out Till wintry death expel her summer reign, And freeze that ruddy home to be his house. Mercer. Why, fourteen years ago I lost a wife, The sweetest girl that ever blessed a man. Some happy months, and then I crossed the seas: I sailed from Naples, and she went to Rome. When I returned my friends in Rome were gone, Whither I found not. Then my wife had died, I thought, in child-bed, and looked up the news. I did not there discover what I feared, But found in place a most conflicting tale Of brigandage; and murders had been done. Some ransomed, some let go, some corpses found, Left unaccounted for a child and woman. I searched until my purse and I were lank, In hope to find these two; then, back to sea. Having made many voyages and much wealth I still pursued my calling, for in it I found from sorrow, refuge; though, alone, In midnight watches I have often wept To hear the waves with melancholy tongues Lapping my ship, to see the crowded stars Rejoicing like a family in heaven. And so I marvel that you, being a woman,