Of cumbrous duties I had needs perform—­
Dry, peevish, crabbed business at the best,
Impertinences indispensable,
Accumulated dulness, if you will,
Such as I would not irk your ears withal: 
Howbeit I came at last, and nigh a week
Have tarried in the region hereabouts,
Unknown—­and yearning for one glimpse of you,
One word, one kiss from you, if even it were
One only and the last; until, to-day,
Roaming the neighbouring forest, I espied
Your husband, guessed it was your husband, feigned
I was a traveller who had lost myself
Among the woods, received from him—­ah, now
You laugh, and truly ’tis a famous jest—­
A courteous invitation to his house,
Deemed it were churlish to refuse, and so—­
And so am here, your Ugo, with a heart
The loyal subject of your sovereign heart,
As in old days.”  Therewith he sat him down,
And softly drawing her upon his knee
Made him a zone of her lascivious arms.

But thus encinctured hardly had he sat
A moment, when, returning, Angelo
Stood at the threshold of the room, and held
The door half opened, and so standing saw
The lovers, and they saw not him; for half
The chamber lay in shadow, by no lamp
Lighted, or window to admit the moon: 
And there the entrance was, and Angelo.

And listening to their speech a little space,
The fugitive brief moments were to him
A pyramid of piled eternities. 
For while he hearkened, Ugo said:  “My love,
Answer me this one question, which may seem
Idle, yet is not;—­how much lov’st thou me?”
And she replied:  “I love thee just as much
As I do hate my husband, and no more.” 
Then he:  “But prithee how much hatest thou
Thy husband?” And she answered:  “Ev’n as much
As I love thee.  To hate him one whit more
Than that, were past the power of Lucia’s hate.” 
And Ugo:  “If thou lovest me so much,
Grant me one gift in token of thy love.” 
Then she:  “What would’st thou?” And he answered her: 
“Even thyself; no poorer gift will I.” 
But Lucia said:  “Nay, have I not bestowed
My love, which is my soul, my richer self? 
My poorer self, which is my body, how
Can I bestow, when ’tis not in mine own
Possession, being his property forsooth,
Who holds the ecclesiastic title-deed?... 
Yet—­but I know not ... if I grant this boon,
Bethink thee, how wilt carry hence the gift? 
Quick.  For the time is all-too brief to waste.” 
And Ugo spake with hurrying tongue:  “Right so: 
To-morrow, therefore, when the sun hath set,
Quit thou the castle, all alone, and haste
To yonder tarn that lies amid the trees
Haply a furlong westward from your house—­
The gloomy lakelet fringed with pines—­and there
Upon the hither margin thou shalt find
Me, and two with me, mounted all, and armed,
With a fourth steed to bear thee on his back: 
And thou shalt fly with me, my Lucia, till