To please their little honey-heated thirsts;
And soon as they have toucht the singing relief,
The swiftness of the water seizes them.

_Sylvan_.
And onward, sprawling and spinning, they are carried
Down to a drowning pool.

_Katrina_.
O Sylvan, drowning?
(_Deeper than drowning! Why should it not be
Our hearts need wish only what they delight in_?)

_Sylvan_.
Well, altogether gript by the being of love.
(_Yes, now the bargain's done; and I may wear,
Like a cheated savage, scarlet dyes and strings
Of beaded glass, all the pleasure of love_!)

_Katrina_.
It is a wonderful tyranny, that life
Has no choice but to be delighted love!
(_I know what I must do: I am to abase
My heart utterly, and have nothing in me
That dare take pleasure beyond serving love.
Thus only shall I bear it; and perhaps--
Might I even of my abasement make
A passion, fearfully enjoying it_?)

_Sylvan_.