Lor Monologue from The Lamp and the Bell: A Drama In Five Acts

From The Lamp and the Bell: A Drama In Five Acts by Edna St. Vincent Millay

male · philosophical · 1:06 min

Fear not, my love. Your daughter's head will doubtless, In its good time, put up its pretty hair, Chatter, fall dumb, go moping in the rain, Be turned by flattery, be bowed with weeping, Grow grey, and shake with palsy over a staff,-- All this, my love, as empty of ideas As even the fondest mother's heart could wish. (OCT: You mock me, sir?) I am but musing aloud, As is my fashion.--And indeed, my dear, What is the harm in lovers-and-all-that That virtuous maidens may not pass the time With pretty tales about them?--After all, Were it not for the years of looking forward to it And looking back upon it, love would be Only the commonest bird-song in the hedge,-- And men would have more time to think,--and less To think about.

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