RHOD. A work Of silent resolution and more silent Fruition--Go! GYGES. You mean--you mean----- RHOD. Perchance. GYGES. You could? RHOD. Misdoubt it not. I can and will. GYGES. Now by the gods who hold their thrones aloft And the Erinnyes, Listeners of the Depths, That may not be and ne’er shall come to pass! RHOD. Ho, thus you speak? GYGES. You’ll wake me out of slumber-- Tell me you will--when he appears in dreams And mocks his death-wound, ever, ever smiling Till my hair starts on end? RHOD. No more! No more! GYGES. And you will press a kiss upon my lips, That in my anguish come no sudden stab To tell me why I did it--You turn away As though the very thought set you to shudders? Swear first that oath! RHOD. I swear to be your wife. GYGES. Pah! Why the question? I’m not conqueror yet. RHOD. It means a combat then? GYGES. A combat, Queen. You hold me not so light to think I’d murder? I challenge him to fight unto the death. RHOD. And if you fall? GYGES. Send no curse after me, I can naught else. RHOD. Do I not fall with you? GYGES. But if I come again? RHOD. Beside the altar You find me, and prepared for either chance, Prepared as well to lay my hand in yours As grasp the dagger and dissolve the bond That holds me knit unto the conqueror If it be he. GYGES. Before the sun is sunk It is decided. Then farewell. RHOD. Farewell-- And if it give you joy learn one thing more:-- You never had allured me from my home To wrong me thus. GYGES. Rhodope! Ah, you feel it? That means I had known hotter jealousy And keener envy, had been given more To fear, since I’m a lesser man than he. And yet it gives me joy that thus you feel, And is enough for me, more than enough. [_Exit._ RHOD. Now bridal garb and deathly shroud--come on! [LESBIA _rushes in and throws herself at_ RHODOPE’S _feet_. LESBIA. O Gracious One--forgive! My thanks, my thanks! RHOD. (_lifting her up_). I think you will not thank me, hapless child, Yet--in the end! Yes, Lesbia, in the end! ACT V SCENE 1 _Enter_ KANDAULES, THOAS _following_. KANDAULES. Where’er I go you’re hard at heels. What would you? No heart to open speech with me, old man, Because I was a trifle rough with you? Speak--on with what you’d say. I’ll keep my soul In patience and give ear though you should need The length of time that turns a grape from green Into the purple ere you’ve reached the end.