Voice 1: I’ve no more love to give.
Voice 2: Speak less harshly, dear one.
Voice 1: No heart have I but what was spent.
Voice 2: You’re nearly through it now.
Voice 1: I’ll never be the way I was.
Voice 2: But be better I hope.
Voice 1: Must you with blasted hope seduce?
Voice 2: And you? Why now reduce what’s good unknown.
Voice 1: Now no future can reconcile, nothing may mend nor sooth.
Voice 2: So say you so, yet in a day, maybe those words you’ll rue.
Voice 1: No day will come that finds me more, nor further nights will I implore the blessed stars their dictates rend: my fate now I’ll control, if not to bring me good, yet it will be no cruelty from others I’ll afford. This I can here and now bend to my will—and who is it will stay a villain’s hand when he himself shall kill?
Voice 2: Think you so grand a monster now? So worthy that remark? I think you see a monster would be better off than you; its pride would keep it safe from what you plan to do. Forgive a stifled laugh. What mirror has lied to you? See truth, my dear, and dream another dream. Life has a purpose yet. I dare you seek that love you scorn: afraid and cow’ring here, would worse be light than darkness then, if but to sleep therein. A dream’s as pleasant in the sun as you would find it here. Hold on ‘til morning come.
(And not really related to anything, but I enjoyed this recent video by Peter Hollens.)
Tale Told 