University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

A Ball-room in the Court at Cornwall.
Estreldis and her Women in dancing plight.
Est.
Pretty Bianca, will you dance to-night?

Bi.
If I may find a partner, I'll not fail.

Est.
Oh, trust your face for that; it will not fail you.
And you, Lardune?

Lar.
Oh, let me dance to-night,
And go to heaven happy, having tasted
Earth's best felicity.

Est.
Dancing, Lardune?

Lar.
Oh, with these Breton knights, that make the air
Heavy in pace behind them, and still tread
With such a delicate feeling of the time,
As if the music dwelt in their own frames,
And shook the motion from them. Oh, divine!

Est.
Is it so charming? I remember me
Dancing was ever your delight, but now—

Lar.
I never danced till now. Our Cornwall sirs
We thought were adepts; but compared to these,
They're dull and heavy, and lack ears to mark
The proper grace of movement. Say these walk,
Then you may stint the breath of commendation,
And say these strangers dance. Let our knights dance,
These others fly and ride upon the air;
Or flattering, call our Cornish motion flight,—
These Bretons are the untied elements
That in their airy and fantastic course,
Joining and now disjoining, mingling now
In fresh variety of curious shapes,
Hold dancing revelry in Nature's halls.

Est.
Thou'rt mad, Lardune;—tell me, Azalia,
What think you of these strangers? will they wear
As fairly in the trial as they show now?

Lar.
Oh, I'll be sworn for't; trust me, outward bearing
Glasses the man within. True gold, that shines most,
Is in itself more costly and more noble
Than duller seeming brass. That agile force,
That trains their feet i' th' dance, will in the fight
Show bravely in their arms, and their bright swords
Tread such quick measure on the heads of foes,
The ringing helms their music, that Dismay
Shall seize them at the force of't, and Defeat,
Ever his follower, clear the field of them.

Est.
Shall none of's talk but thou? Tell us, Lardune,
Which of these Bretons with the shaking legs
Hath danced himself into thy favour most?

Lar.
The rest are mainly balanced, but this chief,
Lord Eliduke—

Est.
Peace, child! and know your place;
Eagles alone may look upon the sun.

Lar.
Are you an eaglet, and is he the sun?

Est.
You are over-bold.

Lar.
Or over-true. I'm still.

Est.
Well, what of Eliduke?

Lar.
You bade me peace.

Est.
Tush! what a fool art thou: what would you say?
Come, do not fear to speak your mind of him.

Lar.
He's a most gallant—

Aza.
Hark!

Est.
They're coming in.
Range yourselves, ladies. Sweet Bianca, here!
Be sprightly and be courteous; hang the night
With your gay smiles for stars, that these our guests
Report at home you lead the world in wit
As fairly as in beauty. Music! music!

Enter King, Eliduke, Knights, &c.
King.
Choose, gentlemen, and be not slow to-night;
Each take his lady's hand, and tread with her
Responsive measure to the timed notes.
I'll be no more the king, but one of you,
Retaining, of my old prerogative,
Only this fraction—slight, since all are fair—
To be the first to choose. Gentle Bianca,
Lend me your white hand; let us lead the dance.

Eli.
I'll not go near her; now my fears for her
Are terrors for myself. She looks upon me;
I'll stand aside; there's sorcery in her smile
Dissolves mine honesty. Brighter than day!

King.
Eliduke! stol'n away?

Eli.
Here, royal sir.

King.
My daughter hath a hand that you may claim;
Let her not sit apart. Some music, ho!

Eli.
Fate drives me on. Oh, heart and tongue, hold measure!

[They dance; then the company disperse.
Estreldis and Eliduke come forward.
Eli.
The music falls away. Will you sit, lady?

Est.
So I lose not your company, fair sir.

Eli.
So I lose not my heart, fair courtesy.

Est.
Quick answers show sound hearts and flattering tongues.

Eli.

Est.
Nay. Hark! they sing.

[Blanchespee comes up.
Blanch.
Fair lady, will you teach me to make love?

Est.
Fair sir, I am no mistress in Love's school.

Eli.
Oh, be a scholar, sweet, and learn of me.

Blanch.
What said my brother? Oh, how beautiful
Those blushes make your cheek! you're wondrous fair.

Est.
What, compliment! Young sir, you are no novice;
So young and old a hypocrite. Oh, fie!
What new-spun trick is this to steal maids' hearts?

Blanch.
I wish I had your heart.

Eli.
O boy! O boy!
You know not what you ask. Thou'rt like a babe,
That fretting in the fondling nurse's arms,
Lifts its weak hands, and for a childish toy
Claims the night-wandering moon. This that thou askest
Is such a treasure as the teeming East,
Breeder of countless wealth, could never equal,
Nor all the crested brood of high-set heaven,
Planets and stars, clustering the altitude,
Given to one man, and he with power to wield them!
Oh, poor to weigh't with matter; higher things,—
Fame, grandeur, honour, virtue,—let it go,—
Are but the shadows of a greater good,
And that's the heart you ask for.

Est.
(to Blanchespee).
D' you ask my heart?

Eli.
Oh, no; I dare not.

Est.
(to Blanchespee).
Why d'you ask me for it?

Eli.
Who shall refrain, though hopeless, when he sees
The congregate of all imagination,
Shapes noblest or divinest, to ask for it?

Blanch.
Come, teach me to make love; Sir Walter tells me
I must learn love before I am a man.

Est.
I know not what it is, sir. Ask the Count.

Blanch.
My lord, what's love?

Eli.
Yes, if Estreldis ask me.

Blanch.
My brother's lost his wits. D'you ask him, lady.

Est.
Tell us, my lord, what's love; we are novices.

Eli.
Now that your lips have breathed it, they have called up
The incorporeal essence to my eye;
Prophet-like, I'll describe it. Mark me, boy!
Not of that elder deity I speak,
Child of old night, who, as the poets say,
Upon the tumbled body of dim Chaos
Begot the shapes of things. A higher god,
Younger and more essential; oft confused
With lust, his lowest servant; no more like him
Than the gross body of the travelling Sun
Is to his universal light that cheers us.
He is the child of Silence, got by Thought
Constant and deep of what the soul deems noblest;
Long hidden in her womb, ushered at length
By whispered words, evasions, sudden sighs;
Fed upon looks till weaned, and then on kisses;
Grows by endearment; comes of age by marriage;
Wedded to Constancy, and not survives her,
But in his empty place false Passion comes,
Hotter, but not long-lived; has children many,—
Faith, Virtue, Courage, Action well sustained,
Chastity, Patience, Truth, a thousand more;
Dies by neglect, worse far than death or distance;
Buried by pride, and bath no resurrection.

Est.
Know you this Love that you present so fairly?

Eli.
He lies, a swaddling baby, in my breast,
Starving for lack of meat. Feed him with favour.

Est.
Methinks he is of hasty birth, my lord.

Eli.
Oh, he grows quick in childhood; but cold Scorn
Oft with her wintry finger nips his bloom.

Est.
I spoke it not in scorn.

Eli.
Oh, speak in pity,
Or teach your lips new utterance; speak in love!
Your heart's a golden vessel, deep and bright,
Set round with orient pearls, which are your virtues,
Entire, unblemished, clean, uncracked, but empty;
Fill it with love, and let the glowing tide
Swell to the edge of't. Oh, for such a cup
Kings would lay down their crowns, and gods in heaven
Quit their empyreal homes and Hebe's wine.

Walt.
(passing by).
I will be cold. Plague on 't! 'tis villanous!

Eli.
Art thou my conscience-keeper? Stand away!

Est.
Will you walk, sir? my father waits for you.

[The company go. Manent Blanchespee and Walter.
Walt.
The Count grows choleric. What is it, boy?

Blanch.
Hang me! but I believe my brother's mad.
He's talked this hour of hearts, and lips, and cups,
Mixed up together like I know not what;
Such a confusion, that my halting wits,
Long limping basely after, were ere long
Lost to the scent entirely, quite at fault.

Walt.
What have you profited? What's love, boy, eh?

Blanch.
Something to drink, my brother seems to say.

[Exeunt.