Robert Browning (1812–1889). A Blot in the ’Scutcheon.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Act III
Scene IIMILDRED’S Chamber.
Robert Browning (1812–1889). A Blot in the ’Scutcheon.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
MILDRED’S Chamber.
MILDRED alone.
Mildred.He comes not! I have heard of those who seemed
Tresham[without]. Mildred!
Mildred.Come in! Heaven hears me![Enter TRESHAM.]
Tresham.Mildred, I must sit.
Mildred.Say it, Thorold—do not look
Tresham.My thought?
Mildred.All of it!
Tresham.How we waded years-ago—
Mildred.You call me kindlier by my name
Tresham.It weighs so much upon my mind that I
Mildred.Thorold? do you mock?
Tresham.Forgive me, Mildred!.—are you silent, Sweet?
Mildred[starting up]. Why does not Henry Mertoun come to-night?
Dashing his mantle aside, and pointing to his scabbard, which is empty.
Tresham.He bade me tell you…
Mildred.What I do forbid
Tresham.You cannot, Mildred! for the harsh words, yes:
Mildred.Oh, true! There’s nought for me to pardon! True!
Tresham.Death? You are dying too? Well said
Mildred.Tell Guendolen
Tresham.Him you loved:
Mildred.Ah, Thorold! Was’t not rashly done
Tresham.No! No!
Mildred.As I dare approach that Heaven
Falls on his neck.
Dies.
Tresham.I wish thee joy, Beloved! I am glad
Guendolen[without]. Mildred! Tresham![Entering with AUSTIN.] Thorold,
Tresham.Oh, better far than that!
Guendolen.She’s dead!
Tresham.She threw them thus
Austin.Leave her
Guendolen.White
Austin.A froth is oozing through his clenched teeth;
Tresham.Something does weigh down
Guendolen.Thorold—Thorold—why was this?
Tresham.I said, just as I drank the poison off,
Guendolen.Don’t leave him, Austin! Death is close.
Tresham.Already Mildred’s face is peacefuller!
Austin.No blot shall come!
Tresham.I said that: yet it did come. Should it come,
Dies.
Guendolen[letting fall the pulseless arm]. Ah, Thorold, we can but—remember you!