University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—Muhldenau's Garden.
Wreaths of flowers hung from the branches of the trees—rustic seats here and there, ornamented.
Enter Esther and Hans.
Hans.
Now, Esther, have I pleased you? Is there aught
I have forgotten? Are the garlands right?
The seats in order, and the company,
Bid as you told me? There's the music too,
Three fiddles—first and second, and a bass,
A hautboy, flute, and harp! Are you not pleased?
Look pleased! Do, Esther! Seldom do you smile
On me; and welcomer than Christmas day,
Or New-Year's day, or any day o' the year,
Were one kind look from Esther.

Esther.
To say truth,
You have managed finely!

Hans.
La! how sweet you smile!
What's honey now? I wouldn't take a hive
To pay for't with that smile. Indeed, I wouldn't,
In very deed, I wouldn't—and I'm fond
Of honey! furious fond of it. O dear!
A thing so sweet to see, what must it be
To taste? O happy days of boyhood, when
Whatever I did right was sure to get me
A kiss from my mother. Times are changed with Hans;
Do what he may, he gets no kisses now.

Esther.
The boy wants me to kiss him!—So!—Good Hans,
'Tis not with men, you know, as 'tis with boys:
Kisses may come to boys, but men must fetch them.

Hans.
But knew I, I could get them—I would fetch them!

Esther.
Why, Hans, how can you know unless you try?

Hans.
Unless I try!—Now mean you what you say?

Esther.
Why say it else?

Hans.
And they'll be had by fetching?

Esther.
A fool may tell they'll not be had without.

Hans.
O Esther!

Esther.
Well!

Hans.
Would I could hear thee say,
“O Hans!”

Esther.
O Hans! There, I've said it!—Well?

Hans.
Durst I but try? But then there is the fear!

Esther.
And there's the hope! the flower beside the weed.

Hans.
O Esther!—Oh.

Esther.
O Hans!

Hans.
Give me a kiss!

Esther.
Fool!—said I not before,
Men must fetch kisses, though to boys they come?

Hans.
O would you fancy me a boy!

Esther.
I do;
Not only fancy thee, but know thee one!

Hans.
Then treat me as a boy.

Esther.
How?

Hans.
As you said
Just now that boys were treated

Esther.
As I live,
He'd have it come from me! What said I now?

Hans.
You said that kisses come to boys.

Esther.
I did;
And so do railings, cuffs, and fifty things
That are not half so sweet!—Did I not say
The dance was to be practised? Where are, then,
The partners? Where's the music? In a minute
The bridegroom comes, when all should be prepared,
Is that the time for making ready? Stand'st
With gaping mouth when busy hands are needed—
Fetch here the dancers and the music.

Hans.
[Without moving.]
Yes.

Esther.
Is that the way to do it? Will they come
With only saying “Yes?” Art thou a post?

Hans.
In sooth I know not what I am! I know
I'm not myself! I may be man or woman,
A fish or a brute beast, a stone, or log
Of wood, for what I care! I would 'twere now
All over with me, and the undertaker
Were working for me! It will come to that!
I'll do thy bidding—then I'll go and die—
I will! I'll tie a true true-lover's knot,
You'll see I will—Good-bye!—

Esther.
[Stamping.]
Hans!

Hans.
Well?

Esther.
Have here
The dancers, ere I stamp my foot again.

Hans.
I fly.

[Goes out.
Esther.
Poor Hans! The boy is deep in love!
How have I managed to light up this flame?
“Heigho-ho!” “O dear!” The simpleton, I vow,
Grows interesting! I should grieve for Hans,
Were aught to happen to him. It is hard
To be the bane of a poor fellow's peace,
Much more to be the death of him! Should he go
And drown himself! or hang himself, indeed!
Hans! [Calling]
I could never bear myself again!
To see him laid out in his shroud! Hans! Hans! [Calling]

To follow the poor fellow to his grave—
To see him lower'd into't.—Why, Hans! [Calling]
I hear
The earth upon him is coffin! Hans, I say!
Where are you?

Hans.
[Entering with dancers.]
Here! Is anything the matter,
You call'd me in a tone of such distress?

Esther.
[Recovering herself.]
Am I not in a hurry, and you take
An hour and more to do a minute's work!

Hans.
I'm sure I'm hardly gone a minute.

Esther.
Fool!
You cannot tell a minute from an hour!

Hans.
Here are the dancers and the music, but
One partner is a-wanting.

Esther.
You stand up!

Hans.
It is a woman's wanting.

Esther.
'Tis no matter,
Take you her place.

Hans.
I'll do whate'er you bid me,
But 'tis too bad to make a woman of me.

Esther.
[impatiently].
Are you ready?

Hans.
Yes! I'll dance him till I tire him.

[Dance. Hans exerts himself to the utmost, constantly looking towards Esther, who gradually becomes pleased, and still more and more enjoys his vivacity. His partner gives up, and Hans dances by himself before Esther, who humours his steps. The others at length dance off.
Hans.
Danced I to please you?

Esther.
Yes: and there your thanks.

[Kisses him.
Hans.
And there are yours for paying me so well!
[Kissing again.
Mars! if I haven't kiss'd her!

Esther.
Hans! Why, Hans!

Hans.
Nay, don't be angry! All the blame was yours;
You kiss'd me first. 'Twas only kiss for kiss!

Esther.
Here's some one coming! Why you idle boy!
Nothing within, without the house, to do,
That you keep standing here? No plate to clean?
No knives and forks? no furniture to polish?
No glasses nor decanters to be rinsed,
And dried and clear'd? When put you last to rights
Your pantry? 'Twas in wondrous order when
I look'd into it yesterday! Go, sir!
A gaping mouth won't serve for busy hands!
To work, I say! Do you hear me, boy?

Hans.
I do,
Yet hardly can believe it.

Esther.
Hence. To work!

[Hans goes out,
Mad. Ros.
[Entering.]
To work? Why, Esther 'tis a holiday!
Knew you what you were saying? Do you hear me?
Esther turn'd girl! May I believe my eyes—
And they have never fail'd me yet—I saw thee
Kiss the lad Hans just now?

Esther.
'Twas he kiss'd me.

Mad. Ros.
You first kiss'd him.

Esther.
Well, if I did, I did.
He danced just now, and pleased me, 'twas so well—
And so I kiss'd him, as a woman may
A boy!

Mad. Ros.
You are right; you might have said a child:
Hans is no more.

Esther.
Hans no more than a child?
He's twenty-five!—He says so, next birthday.
A pretty child indeed! If he's a child,
Children are marriageable! Such a child
My mother's husband was, when birth of me
Made him a father.

Mad. Ros.
Be not angry, Esther;
I did not say of Hans he was too young
To be a husband—if you fancy him.

Esther.
I fancy Hans? I fancy living man,
And Hans especially! I, that am gall
At very thought a man should be my master!
I, to whom never ventured man to say
Soft thing a second time—and those have tried
Who have back'd furious seas, and shown a front
To bayonet-points and loaded cannon-mouths—
And I to fancy Hans! I thank you, ma'am.
Dress up a girl in boy's clothes for me, do,
And send her me for husband! Hans indeed
To call me wife! I to call Hans my husband!
How I should like to hear myself! I'll marry
When it rains husbands!—but it shan't be Hans!

Mad. Ros.
Well, Esther, do not fret.

Esther.
I fret? I think
I see myself! Fret about Hans! I know
You only jested. 'Twas a rare conceit
To say I'd marry Hans. [Laughs.]
I'll kill myself
With laughing at the thought. Esther to marry—
And Hans, of all mankind!

Mad. Ros.
You are right. 'Twas jest!
I have always set you down for an old maid.
Go see if Meeta's ready.

Esther.
[Aside.]
An old maid!
Thank Heaven, I'm only five-and-thirty yet.
Old maid indeed, and only thirty-five!
I yet may live to be a grandmother!

[Goes out.
Mad. Ros.
No sign of Rupert yet, and noon is past.
He will not come. These nuptials will be stopp'd.
Her father's summons boded, as I thought,
No good. There is in the affairs of life,
As in the atmosphere, a season, where
To shining day succeedeth shining day;
But once the weather breaks, 'tis cloud and cloud,
And long-deferr'd and slow, the clearing up!
Enter Messenger with letters, and retires.
From Rupert! I was right—he will not come:
The field is ta'en a month before the time.
His leave has been recall'd! Poor Meeta! Go
Undress thee, girl! Thy gear of every day
Belongs to this, on which thou thought'st to wear
The brightest suit that virginhood puts on!
This is to Meeta—from her father? No—
The hand is strange! Why, who should write to her
Except her father? About whom but him,
Or Rupert should she hear, and he has told
His errand in my letter! If it speaks
About her father, harm has fall'n upon him!
And how will Meeta bear it? Firm of mind—
Yet with a heart, so quickly tender, how
Support the news of evil fall'n on him!
What can have chanced? Perhaps imprisonment!
Not death? O no! not death! It cannot be!
Heaven, for his child's sake—for his own—will spare him.

[Goes out.