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The poetical works of William Wordsworth

... In six volumes ... A new edition

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Scene, the door of the Hostel. Herbert, Idonea, and Host.
Her.
(seated).
As I am dear to you, remember, Child!
This last request.

Idon.
You know me, Sire; farewell!

Her.
And are you going then? Come, come Idonea,
We must not part,—I have measured many a league
When these old limbs had need of rest,—and now
I will not play the sluggard.


75

Idon.
Nay, sit down. [Turning to Host.

Good Host, such tendance as you would expect
From your own Children, if yourself were sick,
Let this old Man find at your hands; poor Leader, [Looking at the dog.

We soon shall meet again. If thou neglect
This charge of thine, then ill befall thee!—Look,
The little fool is loth to stay behind.
Sir Host! by all the love you bear to courtesy,
Take care of him, and feed the truant well.

Host.
Fear not, I will obey you;—but One so young,
And One so fair, it goes against my heart
That you should travel unattended, Lady!—
I have a palfrey and a groom: the lad
Shall squire you, (would it not be better, Sir?)
And for less fee than I would let him run
For any lady I have seen this twelvemonth.

Idon.
You know, Sir, I have been too long your guard
Not to have learnt to laugh at little fears.
Why, if a wolf should leap from out a thicket,
A look of mine would send him scouring back,
Unless I differ from the thing I am
When you are by my side.

Her.
Idonea, wolves
Are not the enemies that move my fears.

Idon.
No more, I pray, of this. Three days at farthest
Will bring me back—protect him, Saints—farewell!

[Exit Idonea.
Host.
'Tis never drought with us—St. Cuthbert and his Pilgrims,
Thanks to them, are to us a stream of comfort:
Pity the Maiden did not wait a while;
She could not, Sir, have failed of company.

Her.
Now she is gone, I fain would call her back.


76

Host.
(calling).
Holla!

Her.
No, no, the business must be done.—
What means this riotous noise?

Host.
The villagers
Are flocking in—a wedding festival—
That's all—God save you, Sir.

Enter Oswald.
Osw.
Ha! as I live,
The Baron Herbert.

Host.
Mercy, the Baron Herbert!

Osw.
So far into your journey! on my life,
You are a lusty Traveller. But how fare you?

Her.
Well as the wreck I am permits. And you, Sir?

Osw.
I do not see Idonea.

Her.
Dutiful Girl,
She is gone before, to spare my weariness.
But what has brought you hither?

Osw.
A slight affair,
That will be soon despatched.

Her.
Did Marmaduke
Receive that letter?

Osw.
Be at peace.—The tie
Is broken, you will hear no more of him.

Her.
This is true comfort, thanks a thousand times!—
That noise!—would I had gone with her as far
As the Lord Clifford's Castle: I have heard
That, in his milder moods, he has expressed
Compassion for me. His influence is great
With Henry, our good King;—the Baron might
Have heard my suit, and urged my plea at Court.
No matter—he's a dangerous Man.—That noise!—
'Tis too disorderly for sleep or rest.
Idonea would have fears for me,—the Convent
Will give me quiet lodging. You have a boy, good Host,
And he must lead me back.


77

Osw.
You are most lucky;
I have been waiting in the wood hard by
For a companion—here he comes; our journey Enter Marmaduke.

Lies on your way; accept us as your Guides.

Her.
Alas! I creep so slowly.

Osw.
Never fear;
We'll not complain of that.

Her.
My limbs are stiff
And need repose. Could you but wait an hour?

Osw.
Most willingly!—Come, let me lead you in,
And, while you take your rest, think not of us;
We'll stroll into the wood; lean on my arm.

[Conducts Herbert into the house. Exit Marmaduke.
Enter Villagers.
Osw.
(to himself coming out of the Hostel).
I have prepared a most apt Instrument—
The Vagrant must, no doubt, be loitering somewhere
About this ground; she hath a tongue well skilled,
By mingling natural matter of her own
With all the daring fictions I have taught her,
To win belief, such as my plot requires.

[Exit Oswald.
Enter more Villagers, a Musician among them.
Host
(to them).
Into the court, my Friend, and perch yourself
Aloft upon the elm-tree. Pretty Maids,
Garlands and flowers, and cakes and merry thoughts,
Are here, to send the sun into the west
More speedily than you belike would wish.