Britain ... - Blue-Lite

Scene Il/| THE VARANGIAN. 319
Must with him brave it out the best she may ;
And if she do not find some means to bend,
Or silence him for ever, she's no woman. [Exit.
JUDITH.
O, I am deep in malice with myself,
That I should listen to that wench's tale,
And make this stubborn fool my confidant,
Gulled by her silly judgment. [Aside.
Slave ! how darest
Thou on me with such bold amazement look?
HEREWARD.
Can I but wonder to behold that form
Which breathes divinity, those eyes that dart
The lightning of the soul, that lovely face,
Rosy and bright as if the god of day
Had on young morn begot thee, and yet know
That in such beauty fiends can find a home
And turn it to a hell ? Murder thy lord !
Art thou not bound by every holy tie
To honour and obey him ? O, thy sex
Is ever in extremes. Women, when good,
Are mild and beautiful as angel forms,
And o'er man's darkened path shine like the moon
On winter's chilling storms yet guiltless still
Of her inconstancy, guiding his steps
To the sweet home of all that makes life blest ;
But when the shades of hell eclipse their light,
They taint us like a plague-spot !
JUDITH.
Poison of asps
Blister thy tongue ! Patience herself would turn
A maniac fury, to be taunted thus
By such a losel slave, whose every breath