| |
(BOTHWELL rises and stands straight up without the least motion.)
Bothwell. THIS woman! Somewhere she has pledged my soul; | |
| We have drunk wine together on some bare, | |
| Brown hill of chaos, while the wanton lights, | |
| Young meteors flaming lawless through the heaven | |
| Peered at our rampant revel. We were one | 5 |
| Before the stars were broken to their spheres; | |
| Part of the huge, unsevered element | |
| When day and darkness hugged. I know that far | |
| Below the rise of rivers, underneath | |
| The sowing of the mine’s unfathomed seed, | 10 |
| There was this sunken bond. She flings me now | |
| Contempt, my lass! my lass! What should we find | |
| In woman but the lavish side of God, | |
| Before the thought of judgment crippled Him, | |
| When He was soft, creative, fostering, free? | 15 |
| Contempt, contempt! Night’s stinging moments spin, | |
| And stir me to an act: the regicides | |
| With their dismaying weapons shall have done | |
| By far less intimate irreverence | |
| On majesty than I in person dare. | 20 |
| Hell will be puzzled what to do with such | |
| As I shall show myself, it has no code | |
| That can entangle me, no quarter builded | |
| That might immure my unimagined courage, | |
| No flames to equal mine. The royal witch, | 25 |
| She sought to disenchant me in the guise | |
| Of formal coldness, she the beauty, she | |
| The madding, unfoiled beauty. How the air | |
| Dreads me, I breathe on lion-like! She has said | |
| She needs no convoy! I will furnish one: | 30 |
| She must with me the merry, downward way, | |
| Where demons cackle. I will meet my bride | |
| At Foulsbrigg with an army. This contempt | |
| Is an infectious plague! [Exit by outside door. | |
| |
