Emblems Of Love

Lascelles Abercrombie

Capitolo 59


_Jean_.
     He is insulted me.
And you don't have to allow me of never to see again it.

_Hamish_.
Sure I don't want him/it seeing her/it. But still,
If I am not to allow her safe to satisfy him/it--

_Jean_.
Look in his/her eyes would mortify my heart!

_Hamish_.
Then right you'ld to pay me.

_Jean_.
     Thing You please.

_Hamish_.
A kiss?

_Jean_.
     Clearly;  so many how much you like--
And of some kind you like.




KATRINA


ME

_On the sea-coast. Three young men_, SYLVAN, Engaged,
_and_ Francesco.

_Valentine_.
Well, I suppose that you are finally out of Your fear,
Sylvan. This earth enough it is empty;  nothing here
Female but the hens, dogs and cows.
Now we am sure!

_Francis_.
     Horribly the safe;  for here,
If there are wives to everybody, them they are salty this way
They has not meant for the blood curved things,
Philosophy allows not to be women.

_Valentine_.
But he/she thinks about her husbands that have to spend their nights
Long skin as I bark. It is the men
That has the tragedy in these proud earths.

_Francis_.
Any thought of that! Now we am monks. And, indeed,
This is a cloister that a man could like,
This blue-aired space of grassy earth that here,
In the moment in which him the bitter humor of the sea touches,
You/he/she has shaken in dunes, as he thrilled,
As a calm woman that trembles against love.

_Sylvan_.
Donna again!--As, knowing her/it, I failed
So long I cannot think to know the truth.

_Francis_.
And which is truth?

_Sylvan_.
     Donna and love of her
It is as an ivy that drags on the growth
Of that strong tree, man's nature!

_Valentine_.
     Yes. But now
I/you/he/she tell us a simpler kind of the truth. It was her---

_Sylvan_.
You? Who?

_Valentine_.
     Katrina, clearly:  who other, when one
Does he/she speak of one her to You?

_Sylvan_.
     And thing around her?

_Valentine_.
Was it too much cruel to you, or too much the kind?

_Sylvan_.
Ah there is not hope for men you like;  You is sunk
Above Your consciences in to suffocate ponds
Of dessert imagination,--drowned in woman!

_Francis_.
Ay? Clarence and the Malmesey on new;
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