CONSTANCE AND FREDERICK
Fred. Why should it hurt you that he goes to Rome?
Now I am glad; I can sit close to you,
Feel my hand put away and lost in yours,
And the sweet smell of your long knotted hair
Laid on my face and mouth; can kiss you too
And not be smitten; that is good for me.
Con. Poor child, I love you; yea, keep close by me
So am I safe. Ah! yet no woman here
Would pity; keep you closer to me, boy!
Fred. Is not this well? now I can touch your sleeve,
Count over the thick rings and fair round stones
About your neck and forehead, and on mine
Lay down the soft palm of your smooth long hand;
If I were as my father I would reach
Both hands up—so—to bow your head quite down,
Pulled by the hair each side, till I could touch
The rows of gracious pearl that part your hair.
Then I would kiss you, your lips would move to cry
Now I am glad; I can sit close to you,
Feel my hand put away and lost in yours,
And the sweet smell of your long knotted hair
Laid on my face and mouth; can kiss you too
And not be smitten; that is good for me.
Con. Poor child, I love you; yea, keep close by me
So am I safe. Ah! yet no woman here
Would pity; keep you closer to me, boy!
Fred. Is not this well? now I can touch your sleeve,
Count over the thick rings and fair round stones
About your neck and forehead, and on mine
Lay down the soft palm of your smooth long hand;
If I were as my father I would reach
Both hands up—so—to bow your head quite down,
Pulled by the hair each side, till I could touch
The rows of gracious pearl that part your hair.
Then I would kiss you, your lips would move to cry
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