No More Learning

. . 'Twould wake sad thoughts in me.
How could I have this damsel in my sight
And keep mine eyes dry? Prince, why wilt thou smite
The smitten? Griefs enough are on my head.
Where in my castle could so young a maid
Be lodged--her veil and raiment show her young:
Here, in the men's hall? I should fear some wrong.
'Tis not so easy, Prince, to keep controlled
My young men. And thy charge I fain would hold
Sacred. --If not, wouldst have me keep her in
The women's chambers . . . where my dead hath been?
How could I lay this woman where my bride
Once lay?
It were dishonour double-dyed.
These streets would curse the man who so betrayed
The wife who saved him for some younger maid;
The dead herself . . . I needs must worship her
And keep her will.

[_During the last few lines_ ADMETUS _has been looking at the
veiled Woman and, though he does not consciously recognize her,
feels a strange emotion overmastering him. He draws back. _]


Aye. I must walk with care. . . .
O woman, whosoe'er thou art, thou hast
The shape of my Alcestis; thou art cast
In mould like hers. . . .