— O for an image, madam, in one word, To show you as the lightning night reveals, Your error and your perils:  you have erred In mind only, and the perils that ensue Swift heels may soften; wherefore to swift heels Address your hopes of safety you!

     XXXVIII

— To err in mind, sir . . . your friend smiles:  he may!  To err in mind, if err in mind we can, Is grievous error you do well to stay.  But O how different from reality Men’s fiction is! how like you in the plan, Is woman, knew you her as we!

     XXXIX

— Look, lady, where yon river winds its line Toward sunset, and receives on breast and face The splendour of fair life:  to be divine, ’Tis nature bids you be to nature true, Flowing with beauty, lending earth your grace, Reflecting heaven in clearness you.

     XL

— Sir, you speak well:  your friend no word vouchsafes.  To flow with beauty, breeding fools and worse, Cowards and worse:  at such fair life she chafes, Who is not wholly of the nursery, Nor of your schools:  we share the primal curse; Together shake it off, say we!

     XLI

— Hear, then, my friend, madam!  Tongue-restrained he stands Till words are thoughts, and thoughts, like swords enriched With traceries of the artificer’s hands, Are fire-proved steel to cut, fair flowers to view. — Do I hear him?  Oh, he is bewitched, bewitched!  Heed him not!  Traitress beauties you!

     XLII

— We have won a champion, sisters, and a sage! — Ladies, you win a guest to a good feast! — Sir spokesman, sneers are weakness veiling rage. — Of weakness, and wise men, you have the key. — Then are there fresher mornings mounting East Than ever yet have dawned, sing we!

     XLIII

— False ends as false began, madam, be sure! — What lure there is the pure cause purifies! — Who purifies the victim of the lure? — That soul which bids us our high light pursue. — Some heights are measured down:  the wary wise Shun Reason in the masque with you!

     XLIV

— Sir, for the friend you bring us, take our thanks.  Yes, Beauty was of old this barren goal; A thing with claws; and brute-like in her pranks!  But could she give more loyal guarantee Than wooing Wisdom, that in her a soul Has risen?  Adieu:  content are we!

     XLV

     Those ladies led their captive to the flood’s
     Green edge.  He floating with them seemed the most
     Fool-flushed old noddy ever crowned with buds. 
     Happier than I!  Then, why not wiser too? 
     For he that lives with Beauty, he may boast
     His comrade over me and you.

     XLVI

     Have women nursed some dream since Helen sailed
     Over the sea of blood the blushing star,
     That beauty, whom frail man as Goddess hailed,
     When not possessing her (for such is he!),
     Might in a wondering season seen afar,
     Be tamed to say not ‘I,’ but ‘we’?