University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

A saloon in Orlando's palace.
Olivia, Violetta, Nurse, and Attendants.
Oliv.
You keep me long: am I not yet attired?
Have ye not tricked me out enough? In faith,
I am so vain to think I need no more.

Attend.
One moment, madam;
This little necklace, like the marriage yoke
Pleasantly binding, I must clasp around you.

Oliv.
A pretty toy, and prettily disposed;
I have, I know not why, this livelong day
Wept drops enough to bead a thousand such.
Where's Violetta? Come, look up, my girl,
Make thine eyes sparkle; mine are very moist.

Viol.
Shake off this sadness, lady, 'tis not meet
At such a moment; think upon your bridegroom,
How his affections seek thee.

Oliv.
Gentle maid,
I'll not be sad; yet, little Violet,
How long I've worn thy beauty next my heart,
Aye, in my very thoughts, where thou hast shed
Perpetual summer: how long shared thy being:
Like two leaves of a bud, we've grown together,
And needs must bleed at parting.

Viol.
No, not so;
I am thy handmaid still; and when your lord
Is absent, as he will be, at the tourney,
The court, or camp, we'll drive the long hours on
With prattle as of old.

Oliv.
Thanks, I'll be cheerful;
But joy's a plant the showers of many sorrows
Must water, ere it bloom. Good nurse, your pardon,
You've known me for a froward child before.

Nurse.
Now, on the scanty remnant of my life,
Grief's an ill wedding garment; if you'd put
One of your rosy smiles on, what a grace
You'd look and be. Why, all these ohs and sobs
Are more like funeral noises.

Oliv.
'Troth they are,
And 'tis the funeral of that Olivia
You nursed and knew; an hour and she's no more,
No more the mistress of her own resolves,
The free partaker of earth's airs and pleasures;
My very love, the poorest gift I have,
(Which, light as 'tis, I thought you all did prize,)
Is not my own. We must be strangers, girls;
Give me your hands and wishes.

Nurse.
There is one,
Old now, and withered, truly we might call it
Yours, and not mine; oft has it brought you food,
Led you, and served you; yet in gladness parts
To make way for a younger and a worthier.

Oliv.
My kind old nurse; nay, now you are forgetting
Your words of cheer; this hand shall never want
Aid while I live, your service will be needful;
My house would seem a strange and dismal place
Without your pleasant looks.

Nurse.
Well, my dear child,
I hope you'll give my arms a new Olivia;
Blush not; the old will talk.

Oliv.
Whose hand is this
I know not from my own? Young Violet's?
My beauteous innocence, you must be with me
Oft, as you said: Go to, my nurse forbids
Our weeping.

Viol.
Don't chide me then, Olivia,
I'm a sad fool, but do not chide.

Oliv.
A gem
For Friendship's crown, each drop. My loving maids,
To each a farewell that I cannot speak;
All have my heart, and well can read its meaning.
Henceforth I'll look upon my maiden years
As lovely pastoral pictures; all of you
Shall smile again 'neath Memory's wizard pencil;
The natural beauties that we've marked together
Will look you back again; the books we've loved
Will talk to me of your sweet-worded praises,
The air of our old haunts whisper your voices;
Trust me, I'll not forget you.

Attend.
Dearest lady,
May all the blessings that rain down from heaven
Upon the marriage-bed, descend on yours;
May many children, innocent and fair,
With soft embracements throng about your knees,
Domestic pleasures ever turn your hour-glass,
And, when the long sleep falls upon your eyes,
Content and holy Peace, the twins of Eden,
Draw round the curtain 'twixt you and the world,
And watch beside you all the dreary night.