If you would speak of love, Speak freely. There is nothing in the world That has been friendly to us but the kisses That were upon our lips, and when we are old Their memory will be all the life we have. DEIRDRE. There was a man that loved me. He was old; I could not love him. Now I can but fear. He has made promises, and brought me home; But though I turn it over in my thoughts, I cannot tell if they are sound and wholesome, Or hackles on the hook. FIRST MUSICIAN. I have heard he loved you, As some old miser loves the dragon-stone He hides among the cobwebs near the roof. DEIRDRE. You mean that when a man who has loved like that Is after crossed, love drowns in its own flood, And that love drowned and floating is but hate. And that a king who hates, sleeps ill at night, Till he has killed, and that, though the day laughs, We shall be dead at cockcrow. FIRST MUSICIAN. You have not my thought. When I lost one I loved distractedly, I blamed my crafty rival and not him, And fancied, till my passion had run out, That could I carry him away with me, And tell him all my love, I’d keep him yet. DEIRDRE. Ah! now I catch your meaning, that this king Will murder Naisi, and keep me alive. FIRST MUSICIAN. ’Tis you that put that meaning upon words Spoken at random. DEIRDRE. Wanderers like you, Who have their wit alone to keep their lives, Speak nothing that is bitter to the ear At random; if they hint at it at all Their eyes and ears have gathered it so lately That it is crying out in them for speech. FIRST MUSICIAN. We have little that is certain. DEIRDRE. Certain or not, Speak it out quickly, I beseech you to it; I never have met any of your kind, But that I gave them money, food, and fire. FIRST MUSICIAN. There are strange, miracle-working, wicked stones, Men tear out of the heart and the hot brain Of Libyan dragons. DEIRDRE. The hot Istain stone, And the cold stone of Fanes, that have power To stir even those at enmity to love. FIRST MUSICIAN. They have so great an influence, if but sewn In the embroideries that curtain in The bridal bed. DEIRDRE. O Mover of the stars That made this delicate house of ivory, And made my soul its mistress, keep it safe. FIRST MUSICIAN. I have seen a bridal bed, so curtained in, So decked for miracle in Conchubar’s house, And learned that a bride’s coming. DEIRDRE.