Elizabeth monologue (Act 4) — Tannhäuser : $b A story of all time

Not so. Learn how this came. My father would have made A match of lands and titles. I declined, Minded to keep my high virginity. He laughed, was cruel. So I said at last: “Tannhäuser only!” Was this modesty? Listen. You loved me when I was a child; And, in my childish way, I looked to you, Loved sitting at your knee and toying with The great cross-hilt, or watching how the steel Outshone the jewelled scabbard when you drew (You would not let me touch) the delicate blade Half out: and also fingering your harp, Picking child’s tunes out, while you curled my hair Between two fingers, dreamily enough! Then, too, you went away out of my life! You see the symbol you have been to me? The swift high mind, the heart of gold and fire, The living purpose and the mystic life Of lonely seeking for the Grail of God! I—call you husband? When I said your name, It was to set the task impossible:— Had they but known it—just as one should say: “Bring down St Michael: let me marry him!” They knew the angels were too pure; but you, They guessed not how exalted were your hopes; How utterly unselfish, pure, and true, Your great heart beat!