University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Scene on the Sea-Shore, at the Entrance of the Ambassador's Tent, with the Danish Fleet lying at anchor.
Enter SEWOLD with an OFFICER.
SEWOLD.
Say'st thou, not yet return'd? Away with hope!
It cannot be but some untoward chance
Has foil'd his cunning; haply the poor Prince,
Fetter'd and famish'd in some loathsome dungeon,
Calls me to succour him. He shall not call
In vain. Haste, Gothmund; disembark the troops,
I'll lead them to the Castle.
[Exit Officer.
Coming thus
In menacing guise, with such an armament,
Suddenly on the king, he must, thro' fear,
Give up my royal charge. Yet must I still
Conceal his lineage, lest the tyrant prove
Unwilling to give up a prize so precious.
Meanwhile, if Oswald brings the princess here,
Who shall receive her?—Hark! the sound of steps,
Haply the Prince—No 'tis the youthful hermit.

Enter OSWALD and EDWIN.
Ed.
Heav'n and its peace protect thee, noble Dane!
Behold a Saxon, who, tho' mean in garb,
Is rich in blood and honour. He comes fraught
With tidings, that import thee much to know.
Admit him quickly to thy tent.

Sew.
As friends,
I pray ye, enter both.

Ed.
Not so, my Lord
I'll wait without. His private business told,
If it then seem thee meet to use my service,
Ev'n to its best that service shall be your's.

Sew.
I thank thee, and retire.

[Exeunt Sewold and Oswald.
Ed.
Indulgent stars!
Thus far beyond all hopes your fav'ring aspect
Has crown'd my wish. The mistress of my soul,
My Editha is mine! A father's smile
Gives sanction to our loves. What now remains,
But that, obsequious to the call of justice,
We spirit up the Dane to quell the tyrant?
And see, full well I deem to aid our purpose,
Forth from the swelling sides of yon proud vessel
An armed band is pour'd; another yet,
And yet a third yields up her martial burthen!
Enter OFFICER and SOLDIERS.
I'll hail their leader—Benedicite,
Brave Warrior! may a peaceful anchorite,
Unus'd to sights like these, ask with due deference
Wherefore ye quit your anchor'd ships, and why,
Your bright helms glittering to the golden sun,
Ye march in shew of dread hostility?

Offi.
Lord Sewold, Envoy of illustrious Denmark,
So wills.

Ed.
And may I crave your numbers, valiant Dane?

Offi.
Five thousand strong: Men whose try'd hardihood
Full oft have cop'd with twice that number, Father,
Unfoil'd; for never yet on hostile shore
Did they descend, but Victory sat and smil'd
Cresting their sable raven. Trust me, Seer,
This is no wordy vaunt.

Ed.
I will not think it;
For, to my judgment, never march'd a train,
Whose noble bearings more bespoke their prowess.
Each common bowman treads with that firm step,
Might fit a spearman.

Offi.
Hermit, thou say'st well;
For these be men cull'd from our veteran troops
To honour what was meant an embassage
Of peace and amity; but now, it seems,
We must to our old trade, to blows and bloodshed.
We know our craft. You, Captain, to the right;
You to the left, and wedge in closer file.
Now mount the raven, bid the trumpet speak.

Ed.
Transporting sound! the glorious clangor thrills
Thro' every nerve. Off with these weeds of sloth!
I am, I feel myself once more a soldier!

[Throws off his disguise and appears in armour.
Offi.
Hah! what is this my hoary beadsman chang'd
To a stout well-arm'd champion? by your leave,
Young butterfly just broke from wint'ry slough,
I mean to pinch your wings. Guards, seize the spy!

Ed.
Off, Sirs, and know me for the friend of Denmark!

Offi.
A foe might say as much; but where's the Dane
Would take him at his word? Art not a Saxon?

Ed.
I am.

Offi.
And therefore, stubborn Sir, my prisoner—

Ed.
I cannot blame thy caution, plain-tongu'd soldier;
Therefore, till noble Sewold quits his tent,
I yield me patiently.

Offi.
Patience on choice,
Or force, it matters not; thou must be patient:
Yet, if Lord Sewold owns thee for his friend,
Thy durance will be short, for see he comes!

Enter OSWALD and SEWOLD.
Osw.
This is a gallant sight, it glads my soul—
But where is Edwin?

Ed.
Here, Sir, and, if freed,
Ready to serve the Dane, and in that duty
My father, queen, and country.

Sew.
What is this?
[Seeing Edwin detained by the Guards.
Release him, guards, and let me clasp his valour.
Know, Earl, while yet this son was lost to thee,
He was my courteous host, and in his prudence,
Join'd with his heritage of thy known honour,
I so confide, that, let him give the word,
And I, and all these veterans will obey
His brave behests. Behold, ye men of Denmark,
Into the valiant grasp of this young Lord
I place my staff of office! Denmark's weal
Prompts me to this: as second in command,
Be it my pride to join him. Sound the clarion,
And hail brave Edwin general.

[Flourish and shout.
Ed.
Noble Dane!
Thou shalt not find this weighty trust repos'd
In idle hands. My deeds shall speak my thanks.
My Father—need I to remind your care
Of absent Editha?

Osw.
I'll go, my Son,
And lodge her safely with her royal mistress:
Yet, ere I go, thus let me clasp thee to me,
And call down blessings with a father's favour
On thy dear head, thy troops, and their just cause.
Yet mark me, Son, when secret thou hast brought
These veterans near the walls, I deem it best
Thou should'st dismiss some trusty spy to Aldred,
Our honour'd kinsman, captain of the guards;
So, on the instant when thy valour spreads
Th' assault without, he, by revolt within,
May seize the citadel: this, if thou dost,
(And to this end my letters have prepar'd him)
Success is certain.

Ed.
I will lay the council
Close to my heart. Thy blessing, Father! Now,
Envoy, I'm thine. Come on, ye Danish lions,
I'll lead you to your prey! A wily tyrant
Shall fall beneath the fangs of your just vengeance,
Tame as the coward stag!

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

A Cottage in another part of the Valley.
Out of a Wood on one side enter CURAN.
There in yon copse beneath a spreading elm,
The night did pass upon my slumbering head,
And scatter'd, as she went, from her dun wing
Full many a dream; wild and disjointed all,
Yet pleasing: for they all, in colours bright
Of heaven's own pencilling, did picture her,
Whom only heav'n can image. Now, methought,
A visionary bark with streamers gay,
Its oars still beating time to warbling harps,
Bore us to Denmark. Sudden now the scene
Was shifted, and a cot mantled with joy
Was all our kingdom; yet we there seem'd crown'd
With more than kingly blessings. At the dawn
I rose, and shook the night-dew from my vest,
Then from yon meadow with attentive care
I cull'd the choicest flowers for scent or hue,
And wove them in this garland. When my fair one
Quits yonder homely cabbin, (far, alas!
Too homely to enshrine so rich a saint)
This path she needs must take. Here then I'll drop
The fragrant pledge, in hope that she may bless
Its weaver by the wearing. To my wish
The wicket opens; 'tis her lovely self!
She comes, she comes! Thou friendly thicket shroud me.
[He retires.

Enter ARGENTILE.
Alas! alas! the morn is far advanc'd,
And yet no tidings come of loyal Oswald,
Or my dear Editha. What's this, a chaplet?
Not the dear Maid herself could better sort
Its hues, or with more careless grace combine.
I'll place it on my brow. But let me pause;
No rustic hand has thus arrang'd these buds,
This is no forest workmanship. It claims
A nicer weaver. I might guess and come
Near to the mark of truth, if I pronounc'd
That comely youth its maker, who of late
So long address'd my too indulgent ear.
A forester he seem'd, yet sure his phrase
Spoke him of gentle lineage. Blushing blooms;
There may be guileful snakes hid in your perfume:
I dare not use your decking. Lie thou there,
Sweet wreath; and may some happier maid, with brow
Unshent by care, adopt your gay adornings;
They suit not with my sadness.

CURAN, starting from the Thicket.
Cur.
So, sweet Maid,
Ev'n so, as that fair hand discards my wreath,
Your cruel heart disdains my constancy!

Arg.
I did not err. Go, Youth, take back thy flowers,
Fit emblem of thy sexes constancy.
Both are but born to fade.

Cur.
Thus to decide
Is all too harsh a sentence. If on me
Thy frown inflicts it, thou shalt find it false,
Ev'n tho' for life impos'd.

Arg.
Go, flattering Stranger,
And sooth some simpler damsel with the tale.
Thy truth or falshood to my absent ear
Will be the same; reckless alike of both.

Cur.
Wert thou a queen, as well thy beauty merits,
Thou would'st rejoice to rule o'er loyal subjects;
Ev'n if those subjects ne'er approach'd thy throne.
I am thy beauty's vassal, Shroud it from me,
I am thy vassal still. Thy frowns or smiles
May load my vassalage, or make it easy;
Yet still thou art its sov'reign.

Arg.
Fabling Youth,
Each quaint allusion in thy speech bewrays
The glossing courtier. The true forester,
Who to the turtle's truth compar'd his own,
Or match'd his wailings with the nightingale's,
Would to my ear his suit more aptly move,
And more pathetical, than thy forc'd phrase
Set out with royal trimmings. Hie thee hence
To some throng'd city. Woo some noble virgin,
May relish better with accustomed ear
Thy talk of queens and vassals. I the while
Will tend my little flock in this still vale,
List'ning their rural bleating.

Cur.
Sylvan wonder,
Know, tho' no inmate of these neighb'ring hamlets,
I have a soul can taste all rural pleasures,
With thee would court them as the choicest blessing
Heaven has in store for mortals, or what next
To thy fair self was precious! Try me, sweet one!
See with what nimble zeal on yonder cliffs
I'll seek thy straggling lambs! at close of day
How safely pen them in their hurdled cotes?
At night how guard them from the prowling wolf?
Then ever and anon at sultry noon
Shalt thou, o'er-canopied by thickest shade,
Recline on this true bosom; while I breathe
Light roundelays upon my oaten reed,
And lull thee to sweet slumbers. Try me, Fairest;

Arg.
No more, soft Youth; picture not scenes of bliss,
Which, if in very truth thou deem'd'st them such,
With me thou ne'er must share. Have I not said
My uncle is a stern man and austere?
He will not match me with thy alien birth.

Cur.
“The old have interest ever in their eye;”
So says a well-prov'd proverb. Trust me, Virgin,
I can a dowery bring will soon o'ercome
His scruples, tho' when poiz'd against thy worth
The weightiest ingots of each Indian mine
Would lightly kick the beam.

Arg.
Indeed, indeed,
My heart is much to blame thus to prolong
This tender converse; yet, I know not how,
There is a kind of music in his voice,
And such a melting mildness in his eye—
O that I ne'er had seen him!

[Aside.
Cur.
Turn thee, Nymph!
Still let those eyes shed their sweet radiance on me!
I live but by thy smiles. The jealous flower,
In its true yellow livery, that still turns
Where the sun flames, watching his burning course,
Then nightly droops the head, as he declines,
Best parallels my passion.

Arg.
Gentle Youth,
Thou hast no cause to droop, when I am gone,
As now perforce I must. What if, while absent,
I dar'd to impose one friendly office on thee?

Cur.
O bless me with the errand!

Arg.
I have said,
I seek a long-lost brother; could'st thou find him?
He pairs thee in complexion, dress, and size,
Save somewhat more of slender. Nay, so much
Alike, thou know'st I lately took thee for him.
He journeys from the north along the flats.
Could'st thou from any neighb'ring cliff detect
The wand'rer's step, and lead him to this cottage,
My smiles should thank thee.

Cur.
Let me press that hand
With these chaste lips, and instant I am gone.
For such another bliss, my willing toil
Would plough the stormy main.

[Exit Curan.
Arg.
If he succeeds
He brings me back my friend, that friend, erewhile,
Had with her brought my peace; but now, alas!
I fear me much the better half is lodg'd
In other hands; yet those are gentle too—
Poor Argentile! how wayward is thy fate!—
I'll to the grove and weep.

[Exit Argentile.

SCENE III.

Scene changes to the Hermit's Cell.
Enter EDITHA from within; the FALCONER at some distance laid on the ground asleep.
EDITHA.
This is a painful pause; and joy and fear
Rule it by turns in my distracted bosom!
Perhaps, ev'n now the Princess, steep'd in tears,
Laments me lost: Perhaps my late-found love,
Now lost to me again, in civil broils
Hazards his dearest life. O Patience, Patience!
Grac'd, as I am, with Heav'n's unhop'd for favours,
Let me not drive thee hence, who still from heav'n
Call'st down fresh favours on the trusting wretch,
That hugs thee in her bosom. Whence that noise!
'Tis but the sleeping falconer's noisy drone.
Sleep on, thou meddling knave. I need not fear thee.

Enter OSWALD.
Osw.
Health to thee, Virgin, and a length of days
Prosperous as this beginning! I return
To lead you to our queen.

Ed.
Dread Earl, your son
Did say—

Osw.
He did, that with me he'd return;
But business more important, (thanks to Heav'n)
Detains him for a while. Thy lover, lady,
Is now the Danish general.

Ed.
O my fears!

Osw.
Say, dost thou fear? trust me, I too should fear,
If I could call his mother's truth in question;
But he is mine, legitimately mine,
And cannot play the coward. Yes, my Edwin,
Thou'lt lop the tyrant's head; I nothing doubt it.
Come on, and in our way to Argentile
Thou shalt hear more. But first I'll give this spy
His liberty.
[Unties the Falconer.
Rise, Falconer, get thee hence!
Go tell thy master thou hast found i'the forest
A nest of traitors. Tell him where they're hid,
And gain a traitor's guerdon for thy tidings.
Haste on, dear Editha.

[Exit, pushing out the Falconer.
Ed.
I do, Sir, tremblingly.

SCENE IV.

Changes near to Argentile's Cottage.
Enter CURAN.
I've climb'd yon cliff in vain. This to the right
Remains untry'd; yet this way ere I reach it
I may, perhaps, again behold that form,
Which makes all others viewless.

Enter ARGENTILE to him hastily.
Arg.
Careless Youth!
Return'd so soon! return'd without my brother!
False one, thou ne'er hast sought him.

Cur.
Far as eye
Could from yon beetling brow detect a gull,
So far these eyes have pierc'd, nor saw one glimpse
Of human face. But hopeless is the chance,
That he, who lost himself is only found
Where thou art present, fitly e'er should use
Those faculties thy absence takes away:
For, absent when thou art, tyrannic fancy
Seizes my sight, and fixes in each orb
Thy image only. If I spy a rose,
It is thy blushing cheek; a crystal rill,
It is thy sparkling eye. Each element;
Fire, water, air, are tinctur'd with thy features.
Gods! she is mute; no sympathetic sigh
Gives murmuring proof, that she approves my passion.
Why is it thus, O ye remorseless Powers!
I've heard that love was ever eloquent;
That tongues, how rude soe'er, nay, that dumb eyes
Inspir'd by love could speak as plain as tongues,
And more persuasively. If this were true,
My eyes, my cheeks, each feature had been vocal,
And told their tale with such sweet energy
It must have been believed. They mock'd me much
Who told me this; for I have no such powers.

Arg.
Thou hast, too eloquent Youth! indeed thou hast!

Cur.
No, not enough to gain me the cold credence,
I love beyond expression.

Arg.
Think not so:
I do believe thou lov'st me.

Cur.
So believing,
Canst thou then cruelly reject that love,
Because 'tis offer'd by a nameless lover?
I heretofore did boast that I was rich;
That boast did fail to move thee. To say more,
Know, that my birth is noble. Will that truth
Avail me? will my fairest meet my wishes,
When I declare this hand, this heaving heart,
That sue to join in marriage bonds with hers,
Are ev'n of royal lineage?

Arg.
Ha! what say'st thou?

Cur.
That I'm a Prince; and yet so much I love thee,
I'll bear my sweet, my simple shepherdess
Swift to my father's court, make her my bride,
Clothe her in gold and purple: orient pearls,
'Stead of those meadow flowers, shall braid her hair.
Good Heav'ns! she weeps. Is it a cause for tears,
That thou behold'st thus prostrate at thy feet
A heart and crown offer'd by Denmark's heir!

Arg.
By Denmark's heir!

Cur.
Yes, to the Saxon court
He came disguis'd to see its beauteous Princess;
(For beauteous, fame had boasted her to be)
How, in that aim, his various efforts fail'd
Imports but little. He has seen in thee
What makes all beauty homely, save thy own.

Arg.
Heav'ns! is this true?

Cur.
It is by all the Powers
That rule our destinies! they mock at pride.
Princes and peasants their impartial scale
Holds all in equal balance! 'tis their sport
To teach the vain possessors of such toys,
As wealth and birth, how little is their worth
When laid, as now, an unaccepted gift
At the bright shrine of beauty.

Arg.
Rise, Sir, rise!
If thou'rt the Prince of Denmark, fate has been
Beyond, whate'er we read in feigned legend,
Ingenious to beguile thee. Now, methinks,
I almost wish to be that Argentile,
You seem to scorn.

Cur.
Be rather thy fair self,
Who canst give more to my transported soul
In one sweet smile, than Argentile could bring
With all her royal dower.

Arg.
You ne'er beheld
That Princess, Sir.

Cur.
Nor do I wish it, Fairest!
Thou hast such full possession of my soul,
That, were she lovely as thy loveliest self,
(Impossible to think) it were as easy
A single hand should lift some first-rate barque
From ocean's breast, and on the timber'd base,
Whence late it launch'd, refix its ponderous keel,
As snatch my heart from that delicious harbour,
Where all my hopes have anchor'd.

Arg.
Wouldst thou, Prince,
Relinquish for my love so vast a dower?

Cur.
I have, sweet Maid, relinquish'd it already,
Ev'n ere thy love be gain'd.

Arg.
I find thee apt,
Great Sir, to part with what the world holds precious:
Canst thou still part with more?

Cur.
No, not with thee:
Thou canst not mean it. Dost thou scorn me only
Because I am a prince?

Arg.
I do, and must,
While I remain an humble shepherdess.

Cur.
A village maid has oft been crown'd a queen.

Arg.
Yet never without loss of happiness.
And, trust me, Sir, while I can safely sojourn
In this still valley, tend my little flock,
Sleep in yon cot, and press this perfum'd bank,
I seek no loftier station.

Cur.
Say not this
To him, who, born a prince, has scorn'd his equal,
And loves but thee alone.

Arg.
But can he scorn
Himself? I mean his better part of self?

Cur.
No, for that part art thou.

Arg.
Mistake me not;
I mean thy royalty. Love lives not long
Without equality. To love his equal,
That prince must be a shepherd.

Cur.
Be it so.
I'll make that change the test of my true passion.
I here disclaim all royalty. I'll live
In this still valley, tend thy little flock,
Sleep with thee in yon cot, and with thee press
This perfum'd bank.

Arg.
O! thou hast won my heart!
Away, away with maiden shamefac'dness!
I will confess, I love thee.

Cur.
Take then, Heav'n,
Take back again each trivial good ye gave me!
Take back superfluous wealth, superfluous grandeur!
This, this is all I'll keep; but I will prize it,
As monarchs do their crowns!

Enter OSWALD and EDITHA from the Path behind, and stand at a distance.
OSWALD.
Am I awake?
What! Argentile lock'd in a rustic's arms!

Ed.
Patience and silence, Sir; for be assur'd,
If he, that was the minstrel, be the Prince,
As you have said the Danish Envoy told ye,
That same is he.

Osw.
Say'st thou? O blest event!

Arg.
Heav'ns, Sir, my uncle! Nay, my brother too!
O all ye stars! Permit me, that I meet them;
I'll speedily return.

Cur.
Go, my soul's treasure,
But make thy absence short! Peace, peace, my heart,
Leap not for very rapture thro' my breast!
Patience, fond flutterer! Let me mark their meeting.
See, how my Love falls on that brother's neck!
I envy him his bliss, tho' he's her brother.
And now they hurry both into their cottage.
Her uncle this way bends. I'll meet him boldly.
He that has honour in his fair intent
Can feel no terror from a mortal's frown.

Osw.
Who art thou, forester?

Cur.
Whate'er I am,
Deem me no foe to thee and thy fair kindred.

Osw.
I hope thou art not, yet I needs must ask
Your business here, and why your ardent gaze
Is fixt on yonder cot?

Cur.
Because that cot
Contains the dearest treasure of my soul,
A goddess in the semblance of a maid,
To whom my love is plighted. Good old man,
Admit me to her presence.

Osw.
That I must not.
'Tis her own wish, I should detain thee here
Till she returns.

Cur.
Away, that cannot be!
Did ever turtle wish her mate detain'd—

[A flourish of trumpets heard.
Osw.
What shout was that?

Cur.
'Tis Denmark's trumpet sounds!
What may this mean?

Osw.
O, ye propitious stars!

Cur.
I know that flourish: 'tis the note of conquest.

Enter SEWOLD, EDWIN, and SOLDIERS.
SEWOLD.
My Prince! my Pupil!

[Sewold embracing Curan.
Ed.
O my noble Father!
[Falling at Oswald's feet.
Accept this sword, steept in the tyrant's blood—

Sew.
And art thou found at this auspicious moment!
Where is thy Queen, thy Argentile?

Cur.
Good Sewold,
I pray thee check this sudden burst of joy,
Nor dream of Argentile; she is not here,
Nor do I wish.—O that my tongue could croud
A thousand thousand thoughts in one short sentence!
Give me the hearing. Thou perchance may'st chide;
But, know, in this sweet vale I've met a maid—
Nay, interrupt me not—she was not born
Indeed of noble kin, and, sooth to say,
Is but a shepherd's niece. But what of that?
Thou know'st, my Sewold, Heav'n's impartial eye
(I but repeat thy lecture, wisest Sewold)
Notes no distinction in the equal chain,
That links humanity. Nature, good herald,
Marshals alike the peasant and the prince,
And gives the self-same blazon. See, she comes!
Mark her, my Sewold, what a modest blush
Damasks her cheek. Give me thy judgment, Friend.
Is not her rural sweet simplicity
Beyond all majesty? withal majestic,
Or would be so, if it were for her purpose
To put on majesty, but she disdains it.
Kneel with me, Sewold, kneel, ye men of Denmark,
All kneel, and hail this heavenly maid your queen!

Enter ARGENTILE and EDITHA (in a Woman's dress.)
ARGENTILE.
Rise, Prince, thy looks declare thou wilt not scorn me,
Tho' I am Argentile.

Cur.
Mock not my love!

Arg.
I do not, Sir; this act shall prove I do not.
Mark it, I pray. Behold this faithful maid,
Whom late in man's attire I call'd my brother!
Behold this gallant warrior! he, whose valour
So nobly has aveng'd thy country's wrongs,
To him I give her hand. His sire approves
The act. See, he devours my snowy gift
With all a lover's rapture!

[Joining the hands of Editha and Edwin.
Cur.
As I thine!

[Seizing Argentile's hand.
Ed.
What words shall speak my thanks? Yes, I have words
My queen will think even worth so dear a gift.
Your father lives.

Arg.
My father!

Osw.
Adelbright!

Ed.
These honour'd hands
Did lead him from the convent to the castle.

Arg.
And in his perfect health?

Ed.
Of health such share,
As his full years allow. Yet strong enough
To go to morrow, so his priest had prompted,
And wend him to the woods, a solitary—

Arg.
O Prince! O Oswald! where shall my full heart,
O'erburthen'd with its blessings, first select
Her theme of praise to Heav'n. First, my best Father,
For thy dear life, prolong'd to bless my nuptials,
I bow my thankful knee! and next, my Prince,
(Nay kneel thou too) bless we the host of saints,
For that, by means beyond compare mysterious,
They saved us from the curse entail'd on princes,
And gave our hearts that rare felicity
Of choice in freedom, which they give the peasant!

Cur.
They did. They lighted the bright torch of love,
And bade it blaze ere policy could damp
With its chill touch the fervor of the flame.

Sew.
Blest pair, how will the story of your loves,
When born upon the wings of poesy
To after ages, call forth envious sighs
From all of royal ear that drink the tale?

Cur.
True, my best Sewold! Now, sweet Argentile,
Let's hasten to thy father. Dost thou loiter?

Arg.
Only to pay these hospitable shades
The tribute of my thanks. Farewell, sweet vale!
Farewell, ye tranquil shades, where Love was born,
And where, did duty not withdraw her step,
Love still would wish to sojourn; yet no long
Farewell; for soon, in these same pastoral weeds,
(If it so please the partner of my soul
To join me in the pleasing pilgrimage)
I will revisit your dear solitudes.

Cur.
Yes, Argentile, yes, ye delicious glades!
We'll steal a frequent holyday from state,
Here to repeat in every different haunt
What pass'd in this sweet valley. Thou shalt find me
Couch'd by yon babbling rill: thy kiss shall wake me;
Then, feigning sweet surprise, here shalt thou fly,
And here in amorous chase will I pursue thee:
Then shalt thou yield—

Arg.
Yet not till all that tale
Of tender love, which charm'd of late my ear,
Be twice told over.

Cur.
Sweet one! so it shall;
And ev'ry time with an increase of ardor.
Our love shall be peculiar, as our fate;
Time shall not pall it, pageantry and state
Quench its first fervor. Hither will we fly,
Leaving at court all cares of royalty:
Here, shelter'd in our ivy-mantled nest,
'Spite of that royalty, we will be blest.

[Exeunt Omnes.