Yes!--yes!

CHARLES: Antonio?

HAEMON: Is it not open?

CHARLES (_confusedly_): No:
Glooms start around me, glooms that seethe and cling.

HAEMON: This maid who called, did she come idly here?
You stir? you rouse?

CHARLES: A coldness runs in me.

HAEMON: And have not I come strangely on the hour!

CHARLES: It 'gins to burn!

HAEMON: Not entered a strange way?

CHARLES: You pause and ever pause upon my patience.
'Twill heave unbearably!

HAEMON: Then hear me, hear!--
Senseless against a bank I found a boy,
Hurled by some ruthless hoof. Near him this key
And writing----

CHARLES: Tell it!

HAEMON: That avows, mid lines
Clandestine of purport, Antonio
And Helena, under these shades at twelve----

CHARLES: You bring on me a furious desolation.
But Fulvia, ah, she----

HAEMON: Not there is trust!
She is aware and aids in his deceit.
This writing says it of her.

CHARLES: Fulvia? No!
No, no!--Though she had sudden whispers for him!
A lie--Yet fast belief fixes its fangs
On me and will not loose me--for against
My hope she set a coldness and a doubt!
O woman woven through all fibres of me!
(_Starting up._) But he----!

HAEMON: Ah then, it runs in you, the rush
And pang that answer mine?

CHARLES (_quietly_): If they are still----

HAEMON: Under these shades?

CHARLES: And--lips to lips----

HAEMON: Ah, God!
You will?--you will?

CHARLES: Hush! something--No, it was
But fate cried out in me, not any voice.

HAEMON: We must be swift.

CHARLES: It cries again. I will
Not listen! He's not flesh of me--not flesh!
A traitor is no son, nor was nor shall be!
Though it shriek desolation utterly
I will not listen!

HAEMON: Do not!

CHARLES: And to-day
He shook, ashen and clenched, remembering
The guilty secret in him!

HAEMON: Still he's free.

CHARLES: My words fell warm as tears--"A rift has come,
A rift, a smile, a breath"--men speak so when
They creep from madness up into some space
Whose element is love.

HAEMON: And will you sink
To a weak palsy--who should o'erwh