SHAKESPEARE. Anne, was it thus? ANNE’S VOICE. No other way-- SHAKESPEARE. Such pain? ANNE’S VOICE. Such pain, such pain! SHAKESPEARE. I did not know. O tortured thing, remember, I did not know--I did not know! Forgive-- ANNE’S VOICE. Forgiving is forgetting--no, come back! I love you. Oh, come back to me, come back! SHAKESPEARE. I cannot. ANNE’S VOICE. Oh, come back! I love you so. SHAKESPEARE. Be still, poor voice, be still! ANNE’S VOICE. I love you so. SHAKESPEARE. What is this love? What is this awful spirit and unknown, That mates the suns and gives a bird his tune? What is this stirring at the roots of the world? What is this secret child that leaps in the womb Of life? What is this wind, whence does it blow, And why? And falls upon us like the flame Of Pentecost, haphazard. What is this dire And holy ghost that will not let us two For no prayers’ sake nor good deeds’ sake nor pain Nor pity, have peace, and live at ease, and die As the leaves die? ANNE’S VOICE. I know not. All I know, Is that I love you. SHAKESPEARE. But I know, having learned-- This I believe because I know, I know, Being in hell, paying the price, alone, Licked in the flame unspeakable and torn By devils, as in the old tales that are true-- All true, the fires, the red hot branding irons, The thirst, the laughter, and the filth of shame, All true, O fellow men! all true, all true-- Down through the circles, like a mangled rat A hawk lets fall from the far towers of the sky, Down through the wakeful æons of the night, Into the Pit of misery they call Bottomless, falling--I believe and know That the Pit’s bottom is the lap of God, And God is love. ANNE’S VOICE. Is love, is love--