. . lady?"
"Too well!" he return'd.
MATILDA.
True; you drew with emotion her portrait just now.
LUVOIS.
With emotion?
MATILDA.
Yes, yes! you described her, I know,
As possess'd of a charm all unrivall'd.
LUVOIS.
Alas!
You mistook me completely! You, madam, surpass
This lady as moonlight does lamplight; as youth
Surpasses its best imitations; as truth
The fairest of falsehood surpasses; as nature
Surpasses art's masterpiece; ay, as the creature
Fresh and pure in its native adornment surpasses
All the charms got by heart at the world's looking-glasses!
"Yet you said,"--she continued with some trepidation,
"That you quite comprehended" . . . a slight hesitation
Shook the sentence, . . . "a passion so strong as" . . .
LUVOIS.
"True, true!
But not in a man that had once look'd at you.
Nor can I conceive, or excuse, or" . . .
Hush, hush!"
She broke in, all more fair for one innocent blush.
"Between man and woman these things differ so!
It may be that the world pardons . . . (how should I know?)
In you what it visits on us; or 'tis true,
It may be that we women are better than you."
LUVOIS.
Who denies it? Yet, madam, once more you mistake.
The world, in its judgment, some difference may make
'Twixt the man and the woman, so far as respects
Its social enchantments; but not as affects
The one sentiment which it were easy to prove,
Is the sole law we look to the moment we love.
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