THE LADY
Dost thou persist?

PIERROT
I do entreat this boon!

[_She bends forward, their lips meet: she withdraws with a petulant shiver.
She utters a peal of clear laughter._]

THE LADY
Why art thou pale, fond lover of the moon?

PIERROT
Cold are thy lips, more cold than I can tell
Yet would I hang on them, thine icicle!
Cold is thy kiss, more cold than I could dream
Arctus sits, watching the Boreal stream:
But with its frost such sweetness did conspire
That all my veins are filled with running fire;
Never I knew that life contained such bliss
As the divine completeness of a kiss.

THE LADY
Apt scholar! so love's lesson has been taught,
Warning, as usual, has gone for naught.

PIERROT
Had all my schooling been of this soft kind,
To play the truant I were less inclined.