That she's a poisoner, traitress, what you will!
Where I can comprehend nought, nought's to say,
Or do, or think. Force on me but the first
Abomination,--then outpour all plagues,
And I shall ne'er make count of them.

Enter MILDRED

MILDRED. What book
Is it I wanted, Thorold? Guendolen
Thought you were pale; you are not pale. That book?
That's Latin surely.

TRESHAM. Mildred, here's a line,
(Don't lean on me: I'll English it for you)
"Love conquers all things." What love conquers them?
What love should you esteem--best love?

MILDRED. True love.

TRESHAM. I mean, and should have said, whose love is best
Of all that love or that profess to love?

MILDRED.
The list's so long: there's father's, mother's, husband's...

TRESHAM. Mildred, I do believe a brother's love
For a sole sister must exceed them all.
For see now, only see! there's no alloy
Of earth that creeps into the perfect'st gold