Raymond:
«Hap mirthfulness! — Oh! joy of grand riddance;
Undress me my hauberk! — the wyvern hath errant'd.»
Liv:
«Ire of yore — bard of e'eryears —
I deem the brood hath wan'd —
fore'ermore?!»
Raymond:
«Fro the chasm of the bosom, bale I hand back.
Hark! my dove — henceforth I bulwark thee! —
Feathers of swans in my pillow — I cede my heart.
Make haste! — I pray — respond my plea!»
Liv:
«Lo! — a sire of great awe — a knight of many battles!»
Raymond:
«…And of kinsmen weeping for the slain!
Please! — heed my words;
In thy sorrow I will kiss thy tears —
In thy bliss I will take thee by thy hand —
The sapor of grapes thou shalt savor —
And harken the nighttingale sing oh so blithely!»
Liv:
«On his knees… A plea to harvest roses;
No heed for the thorns yon count!
Wherefore vow me?
Wherefore this gilded proffer?
Wherefore not pay court to a maid more fair? —
Morn of a joyous day! Flower 'twixt weed!
Fertile desert! Cheerful dirge!
Misery me not! — man nor beast; envy me;
Lest 'tis an act of wont!
Many are the drapes that my past bury —
Ineffable feeling indulgeth in battles!»
Liv:
«Forgive me for deeming thee direfully —
Yet I was a trifle daunt'd.»
Raymond:
«Tisn't what thou vambrace'st thy words with!!;
I bethink dotingly only thy weal —
Therein abiding with thee
Is for me the grandest boon!»