No slightest spot in such an one...

MILDRED. Who finds
A spot in Mertoun?

GUENDOLEN. Not your brother; therefore,
Not the whole world.

MILDRED. I am weary, Guendolen.
Bear with me!

GUENDOLEN. I am foolish.

MILDRED. Oh no, kind!
But I would rest.

GUENDOLEN. Good night and rest to you!
I said how gracefully his mantle lay
Beneath the rings of his light hair?

MILDRED. Brown hair.

GUENDOLEN. Brown? why, it IS brown: how could you know that?

MILDRED. How? did not you--Oh, Austin 'twas, declared
His hair was light, not brown--my head!--and look,
The moon-beam purpling the dark chamber! Sweet,
Good night!

GUENDOLEN. Forgive me--sleep the soundlier for me!