22
PIPPA PASSES.
Ottima. To me—not of me! Ungrateful, perjured cheat!
A coward too: but ingrate ’s worse than all.
Beggar—my slave—a fawning, cringing lie!
Leave me! Betray me! I can see your drift!
A lie that walks and eats and drinks!
A lie that walks and eats and drinks!Sebald. My God!
Those morbid olive faultless shoulder-blades—
I should have known there was no blood beneath!
Ottima. You hate me then? You hate me then?
Ottima. You hate me then? You hate me then?Sebald. To think
She would succeed in her absurd attempt,
And fascinate by sinning, show herself
Superior—guilt from its excess superior
To innocence! That little peasant’s voice
Has righted all again. Though I be lost,
I know which is the better, never fear,
Of vice or virtue, purity or lust,
Nature or trick! I see what I have done,
Entirely now! Oh I am proud to feel
Such torments—let the world take credit thence—
I, having done my deed, pay too its price!
I hate, hate—curse you! God ’s in his heaven!
I hate, hate—curse you! God ’s in his heaven!Ottima.—Me!
Me! no, no, Sebald, not yourself—kill me!
Mine is the whole crime. Do but kill me—then
Yourself—then—presently—first hear me speak!
I always meant to kill myself—wait, you!
Lean on my breast—not as a breast; don’t love me
The more because you lean on me, my own
Heart’s Sebald! There, there, both deaths presently!
Sebald. My brain is drowned now—quite drowned: all I feel
Is… is, at swift-recurring intervals,
A coward too: but ingrate ’s worse than all.
Beggar—my slave—a fawning, cringing lie!
Leave me! Betray me! I can see your drift!
A lie that walks and eats and drinks!
A lie that walks and eats and drinks!Sebald. My God!
Those morbid olive faultless shoulder-blades—
I should have known there was no blood beneath!
Ottima. You hate me then? You hate me then?
Ottima. You hate me then? You hate me then?Sebald. To think
She would succeed in her absurd attempt,
And fascinate by sinning, show herself
Superior—guilt from its excess superior
To innocence! That little peasant’s voice
Has righted all again. Though I be lost,
I know which is the better, never fear,
Of vice or virtue, purity or lust,
Nature or trick! I see what I have done,
Entirely now! Oh I am proud to feel
Such torments—let the world take credit thence—
I, having done my deed, pay too its price!
I hate, hate—curse you! God ’s in his heaven!
I hate, hate—curse you! God ’s in his heaven!Ottima.—Me!
Me! no, no, Sebald, not yourself—kill me!
Mine is the whole crime. Do but kill me—then
Yourself—then—presently—first hear me speak!
I always meant to kill myself—wait, you!
Lean on my breast—not as a breast; don’t love me
The more because you lean on me, my own
Heart’s Sebald! There, there, both deaths presently!
Sebald. My brain is drowned now—quite drowned: all I feel
Is… is, at swift-recurring intervals,
