“There comes one moment, once—and God help those
Who pass that moment by!—when Beauty stands
Looking into the soul with grave, sweet eyes
That sicken at pretty words!”
“Whom I love? Think a moment. Think of me—
Me, whom the plainest woman would despise—
Me, with this nose of mine that marches on
Before me by a quarter of an hour!
Whom should I love? Why—of course—it must be
The woman in the world most beautiful.”
″‘To be struck down,
Pierced by sword i’ the heart, from a hero’s hand!′
That I had dreamed. O mockery of Fate!
—Killed, I! of all men—in an ambuscade!
Struck from behind, and by a lackey’s hand!
‘Tis very well. I am foiled, foiled in all,
Even in my death.”
“I know you now, old enemies of mine!
Falsehood! . . . Have at you! Ha! and Compromise!
Prejudice, Treachery!. . .
Surrender, I?
Parley? No, never! You too, Folly,—you?
I know that you will lay me low at last;
Let be! Yet I fall fighting, fighting still!”