 | Sir Anthony Moore |  |
SCENE V.
Inside of the Cottage.Caroline—Esther, looking at a letter.
Est.
The letter's very well—just as it should be.
This sets his love and honour in true light.
Seal it, and I will send it by the youth
As from myself.
Enter Jasper, Kate, Cubbin.
Jas.
Give you good morning, folk—
Are you restored and well?
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Refresh'd and well, thanks to your generous hearts,
And might I farther on your goodness tread,
I would beseech short sanctuary here,
Till rescued from this plight.
Kate.
Pray, Jasper, welcome them.
Jas.
I leave that office to yourself, good Kate;
They are your guests, I do not like them much.
Kate.
Good folk, my husband says you are most welcome
To make this house your own and all that's in it,
While your convenience suits.
Jas.
I never said such word—you're mad, old wife!
Oh! you slim women folk!—ye're all so newfangled!
Car.
Know'st thou, good Cubbin, where the army lies?
Cub.
Yes.
Est.
Is't far from hence?
Cub.
No.
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And is the general with it?
Cub.
Yes.
Est.
Wilt thou go ere he moves into the north,
And give this letter to him?
Cub.
Yes.
Est.
And he will well requite you for your trouble.
Car.
Yes, he will pay you well—O you will be
A welcome messenger to him.
Jas.
(Aside.)
Wife, is it thus?
Does our new noble lord consort with beggars?
I do not like them, Kate!
Kate.
Some great ones, husband—
Some great folks in disguise—Ah, you've a head!
Jas.
I do not like them—see how beautiful
That young one is.
Kate.
And what harm can her beauty do to you?
Jas.
But, Cubbin, you know—may— (Nods.)
Eh?
Kate.
Go! ye're a weak old man!
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Now, have you noted these directions, Cubbin?
Cub.
Yes. (Going out, returns.)
But are you sure there is not small mistake?
Is it the general, Sir Anthony,
To whom you send me?
Est.
The same—Have I not told you?
Cub.
(Aside.)
This is beyond me!—My capacity
Cannot about it!—Mother, do you ween
She's quite well hereabouts?
Jas.
Peace, boy, and go thy message.
Cub.
Yes.
(Exeunt Cubbin, Jasper, and Kate.)
Car.
O, Esther, I am sick till his return!
Would it were over, for I dread my heart
Can scarcely bear such burst of tenderness,
And kind endearment.—If you loved as I do,
Then would you feel how the rapt soul is thrill'd,
And all the sensous filaments of mind
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We anxious wait the long-wish'd lingering moment
That gives us to the arms we love for ever.
Our day is now o'ercast with lowering clouds;
But when the sun breaks through the darksome folds,
O it will be more sweet!
| Sir Anthony Moore | |