_Em._ Stand farther; let me take my fill of sight. [_Looking up._ What's that above, that weakens my new eyes, Makes me not see, by seeing? _Mat._ 'Tis the sun. _Em._ The sun! 'tis sure a God, if that be heaven:-- Oh! if thou art a creature, best and fairest, How well art thou from mortals so remote, To shine, and not to burn, by near approach! How hast thou lightened even my very soul, And let in knowledge by another sense! I gaze about, new-born to day and thee; A stranger yet, an infant of the world!-- Art thou not pleased, Matilda? Why, like me, Dost thou not look and wonder? _Mat._ For these sights Are to my eyes familiar. _Em._ That's my joy, Not to have seen before; for nature now Comes all at once, confounding my delight. But ah! what thing am I? Fain would I know; Or am I blind, or do I see but half? With all my care, and looking round about, I cannot view my face. _Mat._ None see themselves But by reflection; in this glass you may. [_Gives her a glass._ _Em._ [_Taking the glass, and looking._] What's this? It holds a face within it:--Oh sweet face! It draws the mouth, and smiles, and looks upon me, And talks, but yet I cannot hear it speak; The pretty thing is dumb. _Mat._ The pretty thing You see within the glass, is you. _Em._ What! am I two? Is this another me? Indeed it wears my clothes, has hands like mine, And mocks whate'er I do; but that I'm sure I am a maid, I'd swear it were my child. [MATILDA _looks_. Look, my Matilda: We both are in the glass. Oh, now I know it plain; they are our names, That peep upon us there. _Mat._ Our shadows, madam. _Em._ Mine is a prettier shadow far, than thine. I love it; let me kiss my t'other self. [_Kissing the glass, and hugging it._ Alas, I've kissed it dead; the fine thing's gone: Indeed, it kissed so cold, as if 'twere dying. [ARTHUR _comes forward softly, shewing himself behind her_. 'Tis here again; Oh no, this face is neither mine nor thine; I think the glass has born another child. [_She turns and sees_ ARTHUR. Ha! What art thou with a new kind of face, And other clothes? a noble creature too; But taller, bigger, fiercer in thy look; Of a controuling eye, majestic make? _Mat._ Do you not know him, madam? _Em._ Is't a man? _Arth._ Yes; and the most unhappy of my kind, If you have changed your love. _Em._ My dearest lord! Was my soul blind; and could not that look out, To know you, ere you spoke? Oh counterpart Of our soft sex! Well are you made our lords; So bold, so great, so godlike are you formed! How can you love such silly things as women?