KING.  And not thy hand?

QUEEN (bursting into tears).

O help me, gracious God!

KING.  This hand is not pest-stricken, Leonore,
             Go I to battle, as I ought and must,
             It will be smeared and drenched with hostile blood;
             Pure water will remove the noisome slime,
             And for thy “welcome” I shall bring it pure. 
             Like water for the gross and earthly stain
             There is a cleanser for our sullied souls. 
             Thou art, as Christian, strong enough in faith
             To know repentance hath a such-like might. 
             We others, wont to live a life of deeds,
             Are not inclined to modest means like this,
             Which takes the guilt away, but not the harm—­
             Yes, half but is the fear of some new sin. 
             If wishing better things, if glad resolve
             Are any hostage-bond for now and then,
             Take it—­as I do give it—­true and whole!

QUEEN (holding out both hands).

O God, how gladly!

KING.  No, not both thy hands! 
             The right alone, though farther from the heart,
             Is giv’n as pledge of contract and of bond,
             Perhaps to indicate that not alone
             Emotion, which is rooted in our hearts,
             But reason, too, the person’s whole intent,
             Must give endurance to the plighted word. 
             Emotion’s tide is swift of change as time;
             That which is pondered, has abiding strength.

QUEEN (offering him her right hand).

That too!  Myself entire!

KING.  Trembleth thy hand!

(Dropping her hand.)

O noble wife, I would not treat thee ill. 
Believe not that, because I speak less mild,
I know less well how great has been my fault,
Nor honor less the kindness of thy heart.

QUEEN.  ’Tis easy to forgive; to comprehend
             Is much more difficult.  How it could be,
             I understand it not!

KING.  My wife and queen,
             We lived as children till but recently. 
             As such our hands were joined in marriage vows,
             And then as guileless children lived we on. 
             But children grow, with the increase of years,
             And ev’ry stage of our development
             By some discomfort doth proclaim itself. 
             Often it is a sickness, warning us
             That we are diff’rent—­other, though the same,
             And other things are fitting in the same. 
             So is it with our inmost soul as well—­
             It stretches out, a wider orbit gains,