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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"The Saint's Tragedy"


[Conrad enters.]
What! Conrad? unannounced! This is too bold!
Peace! I have lent myself--and I must take
The usury of that loan: your pleasure, master?
Con. Madam, but yesterday, I bade your presence,
To hear the preached word of God; I preached--
And yet you came not.--Where is now your oath?
Where is the right to bid, you gave to me?
Am I your ghostly guide? I asked it not.
Of your own will you tendered that, which, given,
Became not choice, but duty.--What is here?
Think not that alms, or lowly-seeming garments,
Self-willed humilities, pride's decent mummers,
Can raise above obedience; she from God
Her sanction draws, while these we forge ourselves,
Mere tools to clear her necessary path.
Go free--thou art no slave: God doth not own
Unwilling service, and His ministers
Must lure, not drag in leash; henceforth I leave thee:
Riot in thy self-willed fancies; pick thy steps
By thine own will-o'-the-wisp toward the pit;
Farewell, proud girl. [Exit Conrad.]
Eliz. O God! What have I done?
I have cast off the clue of this world's maze,
And, like an idiot, let my boat adrift
Above the waterfall!--I had no message--
How's this?
Isen.


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