CRASSUS.
Oh love, love, kiss me!

ALICIA.
I will forge a ring
Of bloom of blood-kisses upon your neck,
Till it is like a garden of roses in late spring.

CRASSUS.
"Soft, and stung softly, fairer for a fleck."

ALICIA.
O marvellous nation!
Vanity, dullness, slobber, and quotation!

CRASSUS.
Why do you love me if you scorn me so?

ALICIA.
Why, did I say I loved you? I say no.

CRASSUS.
Why do you make love?

ALICIA.
To beguile the hour;
To crown my rose-wreath with a greener flower'
To do my master's bidding, that's to give
Life to yourself, who only think you live.