University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A Reception-Room in Lady Goldstraw's House. Enter Madge.
Madge.
When will my mother hold her years to be
Beyond man's courtship? O! it sickens me
To see her deck her ruins with bright flowers,—
Through which the ugly seams will peep, withal,—
While I, who, in the course of nature, am as fit
For flowers as Spring is, shut my roses up,
And pine beneath her. Child, forsooth! A child
Of twenty summers, who must know its bounds,
Its nursery, its book, its pretty toy;
Rise with the lark, and lie down with the lamb;—
Must I, indeed?—while she makes daybreak blush
To see her revels, and high noon amazed
To catch her sleeping. If I knew a man,
Of all her tribe, worth loving—Not so fast:
There 's cousin Hal, worth all the bearded race;
But what cares he? Would I were not his cousin!
Ah, well! Hal is so modest too: a fashion
That went out with the tilting-spears and shields.
Poor chivalry! they scorn you; but you died
Rather for lack of heroes, to renew
Your drooping laurels, than your own misdeeds.
If I were Hal—How he torments me!

(Enter Lady Goldstraw.)
Lady Goldstraw.
Child,
You must be jogging: your embroidery
Needs a few stitches, and your French has gone
The saints know where!

Madge.
The saints know little, madam
Of where the French go. If the French go—

Lady G.
Fie!
Your tongue is idler than your hands. Go, go;
Get to your book. I spoil you, silly child,
By my indulgence.

Madge.
Nay; I think you spoil
My mother more by your indulgence.

Lady G.
Mistress,
Would you be pert?

Madge.
Not if I could respect.
Pray hear me, mother.

Lady G.
To your room, I say!
I'll cool your blood upon a water diet,—
Impudent nursling!

Madge.
Madam!

Lady G.
To your room!
[Exit Madge.]
O! what a fume she put me in! I fear
My poor complexion has not stood the shock
Of this emotion. (Looks at a mirror.)
Yes; a fair escape!
No crack nor line, and not a hair awry.
Prior! (Enter Nick Prior.)
Who waits below?

Nick.
Why, Master Hopeful, mam.
Hope 's first to come, and last to go away.

Lady G.
No words! Admit him. Now, I wonder why
This whole house treats me with such disrespect?
[Aside.]
Go, sir! I'll get a master for you, sirrah,
To swinge you roundly.

Nick.
How the old girl shines!
She must have varnished down her paint to-day.

[Aside. Exit.]
Lady G.
Ho! here he comes. Lie still, my little heart!
Why wilt thou flutter, tender fool? Ah me!

[Sinks into a chair.]
(Enter Hopeful. Ruffler, Travers, and Goldstraw, enter behind, observing the scene.)
Hopeful.
Queen of my soul, sweet agony of bliss,
Adored deceiver! daylight is agog
To see thy coming; though bright Phœbus knows
Thy light will shame him! Wherefore, wherefore, wherefore,
Cruel eye of beauty, didst thou keep thy slave
Sitting upon a hall-stool? Has thy heart
No sympathetic thrill to waste upon
Joints stiffened in thy service, rheumatisms
Beyond red flannel and mustard?

Lady G.
Faithless bard,
What, dost thou murmur at thy bondage, then?
I could well-nigh forbid your lips to press
The lilies of this hand.

[Extends her hand, which he kisses.]
Hope.
Nay, mistress mine,
My grief is closed within my placid heart,
As those fair lilies when they fold to rest
Upon thy snowy bed-quilt. Hear, O, hear!
[Takes out a paper.]
This sonnet to thy glory. Little, lady,
Compared with their sweet source, the verses seem;
As rivers which seem trifles to their springs—
Nay, I am out somehow. (Aside.)
But give thy ear
To this soft melody of Phœbus's.
[Reads.]
O! ever-to-be-remembered day and night!
O! never-to-be-forgotten ecstasy!
O! sun-god, with thy sky-born eyes, day-bright,
O'er-look the song-soul of thy votary!
O! teach his love-pen how to soothly write
Of the not-now-forgotten hour, when I
Poured out my love-words to the worthiest wight
That wends, heart-bound, beneath ceruleous sky!
O! dip my ink-dried pen in á sunsét;
Roll out a white-cloud scroll, without a flaw;
For sand, powder a storm-cloud up; and get
Venus to set her silvern taper, for
To light thy Poet; and one name he'll set
Across the sky, and it shall be—Goldstraw!

Lady G.
A sweet, sweet sonnet! much in Petrarch's way.
Yours is a pretty gift of poesy.
Hist! be discreet.

Hope.
I hear profane strong steps;
Much like a man with heavy boots might make.
Lo! rivals, madam! Lo! the slaves that tear
My heart out, and destroy my appetite!

(Enter Lord Foam, Sir John Pollen, and Marks.)
Lady G.
Fair welcome, gentlemen! You have missed much—
The poet's latest verse. Read it again.

Hope.
At thy command I would do much. But, no,
No common ear shall list to holy verse.
Yet if you will—

Marks.
Don't break yourself for us;
Keep something back to live on.

Foam.
La! they say
Your verse is stale before the ink gets dry.

Hope.
They wrong me foully!

Pollen.
(Aside to Hopeful.)
At him! In my day—
In Flanders, yonder—I have seen a throat
Cut for less insults. By the devil's blood!
I smell a coward.

Hope.
Cut the miscreant's gorge,
Here, in this presence!

Pol.
Ay; and fling his head
Into her lap. When we were leaguers, bully,
Down there at Antwerp, an old Spanish Don
One morning sent his mistress, by the post,
The heads of all her twenty paramours,
Strung on a rope like onions.

Hope.
Horrible!
Brought they no tears into her woman's eyes?

Marks.
No, sir; she did not peel them.

Pol.
Look you, sir,
I am a soldier.

Marks.
Then, thank Heaven, I am not.

Foam.
La! fairly struck! Good boy, good boy! I kiss
Your worship's hand.

Pol.
Small shot and thunder! Turks,
I'll teach your tongues—

[Lady Goldstraw faints, supported by Hopeful.]
Hope.
Hold, ruffians! Look here,
And see your handiwork.

Pol.
'Ods bayonets!
Twitch her nose, Foam.

Hope.
Who twitches dies the death!

Foam.
A fan, a fan, la! Merchant, bring a fan!

Marks.
“A fan!” No; bring some water.

All.
(Running about.)
Water, water!

Lady G.
(Starting up.)
No; bring no water; I am not afire.

Marks.
Nor do you use fast colors for your cheeks,
Or water would not wake you.

[Aside.]
Pol.
Blood and drums!
I beg for quarter.

Lady G.
Water me, forsooth!
Do I look withered?

Hope.
Spare, my gracious queen,
[Kneels.]
The wretch who kneels before you, and inclines
His lips unto your shoe-string!

Lady G.
For his sake,
I spare you all.

Marks.
Had I your guineas safe,
I 'd spare your sparing. [Aside.]


Foam.
La! how kind you are!

Hope.
A royal amnesty!

Lady G.
But leave me, sirs;
My nerves are shattered.

Hope.
Misery, misery!

Pol.
'Swounds!
This thing has fallen like a ten-pound shell
Among a company.

Hope.
O! pardon, pardon!

Lady G.
I pardon all. Go, I implore!

Foam.
Adieu!

[Exit, gayly.]
Marks.
'Sdeath! must I lose more interest?

[Aside. Exit.]
Pol.
Soul of me!
Where shall I dine to-day?

[Aside. Exit.]
Hope.
O! agony!
I did not read my sonnet to them. (Aside.)
Ha!
[Starting.]
One look, and then the pall of midnight falls!

[Exit, wildly.]
Lady G.
One cheek has cracked: I felt it giving way
When they cried “water.” Doll, what, Doll, I say!
Ha! there 's the handsome stranger of the street;
And come to court me, doubtless. Lack-a-day!
O! had those brutes cried anything but “water!”

[Exit.]
(Ruffler, Traverse, and Goldstraw, advance.)
Ruffler.
O! such a farce!

Traverse.
Such actors too! But, Hal,
Where is your cousin?

Goldstraw.
Prisoned by my aunt;
Kept out of sight. Blooming and withering
Show ill in company.

Ruf.
Such vanity
I 've heard of.—

Trav.
Practised.

Ruf.
How?

Trav.
Why, in yourself;
Is not all womankind in love with you?

Ruf.
That 's not my fault.

Trav.
Guy, you are sharp enough
For others' follies, stone-blind to your own.

Ruf.
Bah! hang your sermons! Goldstraw, I 've a plan
Working within me, but scarce formed as yet.
Let us to Travers' lodgings; where I'll lie
Till time has brought my struggling thought to light.

Trav.
Onward!—But, Hal, if widow, maid, or wife,
Should look upon us, as we pass along,
Pray you remember, all the sweetest looks
Belong by right to Ruffler; all the frowns
To us, by imposition. Forward, then!

[Exeunt.]