The night before the scene set by The Laboratory by Robert Browning.

Now that I, Laying here in bed
I gaze through these lace curtains of white,
Drowned in a sea of tears shed
Pray thee, In you can I confide?

He is with her, I am sure of it!
I wonder if they know I know
In dark spaces, secretly unlit
They conspire and I follow, low

Whispers plague the night
I wonder for an idea you see
Alack! And there my ideas take flight
I’ll get them before they flee!

To where men wait me and dance with the kings
Their undying love declared
But oh what frivolous things…
He acts like he never cared!

Her eyes flutter … all coy
She’s no minion like me…see?
But he is her little toy
I won’t let her have him, it will never be!

The morning dawn does not come quickly
But my ideas whirl and sickly conspire!
That precious drop- born in the Devil’s Smithy
If I could, I would take her out with eyes of fire!

Red, White, Green Yellow and Blue!
Tantalizing tangy sour or sweet?
Her giggling flirt won’t see a clue
She will drink to death…quite discrete

No? Of course it is, but oh to wait
To see death’s angel taken
By this cursed covetous hate
But never again- beside him shall she awaken!

But only to see her dying face
While I take him back, all full of grace
Will I let the proof remain?
Only if she feels the same pain.

From that precious pearl drop of poison
I shall be the one again full of poise
It will take away the worry of things
As ere I know it- I shall dance at the kings!

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