University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Sir George, alone.
SIR GEORGE.
I never fail, because I never try
If failure blurs the distance. I can read
This girl as I ride past her. Oh, 'tis plain!
Her gods are Change and Notice; out of the light
She is torpid. She would sooner writhe than sleep;
Sooner be stared at by reproachful eyes
Than left unseen. Had she but half a heart
She had been lost ere now; but careful nature
Has made her cold; and so she walks unscathed,
Like those mean things that slip across the brooks,
And sink not, for no water touches them.
Now, tired of calm, disdaining ill report,
Stung by restraint, I find her. I have met
Her eyes; I know she holds me for a man
Unconquered. I may tempt her by a triumph
To some sufficient boldness; then we part,
She careless, I content, leaving our names
For a week's talk, which might have been a month's
On less occasion. Were my life a tale,
Told by a dozen honest witnesses,
I should not guess the hero.

(Exit.)