NAAMAN:
If there were such a God, I'd worship Him
For ever!

RUAHMAH:
Then make haste to hear the word
His prophet promises to speak to thee!
Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt lose
This curse that burdens thee. This tiny spot
Of white that mars the beauty of thy brow
Shall melt like snow; thine eyes be filled with light.
Thou wilt not need my leading any more,--
Nor me,--for thou wilt see me, all unveiled,--
I tremble at the thought.

NAAMAN:
Why, what is this?
Why shouldst thou tremble? Art thou not mine own?

RUAHMAH: [_Turning to him._]
Surely I am! But take me, take me now!
For I belong to thee in body and soul;
The very pulses of my heart are thine.
Wilt thou not feel how tenderly they beat?
Wilt thou not lie like myrrh between my breasts
And satisfy thy lonely lips with love?
Thou art opprest, and I would comfort thee
While yet thy sorrow weighs upon thy life.
To-morrow? No, to-day! The crown of love