 | Florien |  |
ACT II.
Scene—Florien's House. Early Morning. An apartment richly furnished, with wine, cards, lights, &c., in profusion. Guests, men and women, leaving. Florien, Kilrose, Temple, Haselrigge, and others, assembled. Dolly in attendance.Flo.
Good-night, good-bye! the twilight is far spent,
And day-break frowns upon the blare of night,
And all the ugly colours of the game,
Which jibber at us like the ghosts of joy
From empty tables. (aside)
I have lost to-night.
To whom, I wonder? (with a smile)
Kind farewell to all!
(Exeunt all but Florien and Dolly, Kilrose, Temple and Haselrigge)
(to Kil.)
What folly spoke you of that boy, my lord?
Kil.
You don't believe me?
Flo.
No.
Kil.
Upon my soul
I speak the very truth. A 'prentice lad,
Fledged at the counter of a citizen,
Without the dawning promise of a beard,
And nothing but the customary suit
That smacks of service, to adorn a back
Had you seen his eye
Dance when I spoke of you! Now by my hand,
He thought I bore a message from yourself,
And dreamed he had done more than Cæsar did;
For he had seen and conquered—coming not.
I owe him my best laugh this many a day.
Flo.
A daring 'prentice. Did he speak of me?
Kil.
If sighs and looks may speak, a very volume,
Albeit bound in calf. He fell in love
With your description. Oh, my cruel fair,
You tread on hearts as great Elizabeth
Trod upon broidered cloaks, strewn in her way
Like rushes broad-cast on the careless ground,
With ne'er a thought of saving. Mistress mine,
But that your knights are ripe for a crusade,
You would be burned for witchcraft.
Flo.
Even so?
See how you mock me. Love—and love again—
Nothing but love! and when the theme is done,
Then love again upon some other key;
So all the diapason echoes on
The one eternal burden in mine ear
Till I am deaf with it! What do you nobles
Talk of among yourselves, if talk you do,
Or anything but drink, and dice, and dine?
Has.
We talk of Florien. Florien is the theme
The toast of every feast!
Flo.
Oh wonderful!
So small a trifle fill so great a space!
What, all the hearts and brains of all the Court,
And yet no more variety? My friends,
I am growing weary of you; I could find
That foolish 'prentice better company.
Tem.
Not you, my lady. You are gently born,
And only mate with equals.
Kil.
Does the rose
Bloom with the nettle, or the nightingale
Make music with the owl?
Flo.
More compliment!
My lord, my lord, how little have you learned
The royal passage to a lady's heart,
In all your voyages of discovery
Among the reefs and shoals of womanhood!
Why do you treat us like some golden toy,
Framed in a mere caprice of workmanship,
And costly for its costliness alone,
And utter want of use? What do you mean,
When you do say—you love?
Kil.
Even what I say!
Flo.
What, always? Every time?
Has.
How every time?
What do you mean by that?
Even what I say.
As many weeks as build the growing year,
As many days as steal into the week,
As many hours as vanish in a day,
As many minutes as do make an hour,
So many throbs does that well-seasoned heart
Give out—for objects just as manifold
As weeks and years, as minutes, hours, and days!
And as do you, so even do your like;
Courtiers and nobles are for all the world
Like fellow-peas i'the bushel! So again,
When you do say you love—what do you mean?
Kil.
I mean that Florien is the prettiest dame
That ever conned the eternal riddle o'er
To just the same solution. What do you
With sentimental dreaming? Why, you breathe
For luxury and light; your rooms are decked
With tapestry from the Ind, and sweet with odours,
Wrung from the fairest blossoms of the earth,
Which wreathe your hair and bosom like a queen's,
With their best sister-graces; laces wrap you
Softly, as doth the down encase the swan,
And gems are fires to warm you! while the night
Brushes no jot of radiance from your cheek,
In sleep's defiance! Serious thought, my lady,
Upon your 'prentice worshipper!
Flo.
I know!
I am only Florien! Florien the adored,
Florien the vain, the trifler; polar light
Of the star-gazer, till some other star
Rise to eclipse her radiance, sicklied o'er
With the dull lapse of custom! Dolly, shew
These gentlemen the door!
Dol.
(demurely)
The door, my lord!
Kil.
Thank you, I see it. Florien, by my faith,
The fumes of last night's feast have mounted high.
Flo.
Perhaps. Good-bye. Hence with these cards and lamps,
Dead signs of dead and hollow revelry!
Dolly, let in the sun!
Dolly extinguishes the lights and opens the shutters)
Kil.
Have you forgot
We wait for you upon the Mall to-day?
Flo.
I had, but I remember. Do not fear;
I will not disappoint you. You shall have,
You and your fellows, all the entertainment
That you would pay for. I must sleep awhile,
Spite of my radiance! Leave me, I entreat,
Until the hour.
Kil.
When I shall call for you?
Flo.
Oh, as you please!
Till then— (at the door, Dolly holds out her hand)
The chamber tax!
It is a golden gauntlet that we run
To Florien's graces. (to Dolly)
Lady paramount,
I pray you, plead my cause!
(giving her money)
Dol.
Your lordship's servant
Always, at such a price.
(Exeunt Kilrose, Haselrigge, and Temple)
Flo.
Are the men gone?
Dol.
You are hard with my lord, madam.
Flo.
Not so hard as he with me. Oh, how these
courtiers weary me! There is as much charm in their
wooing as in the song of a raven. Is there no fresher
tune than theirs in the whole compass of the instrument
that all the world has been piping on since
Adam played madrigals to Eve? Give me that
mirror, Dolly. Were you ever in love?
Dol.
Constantly, since I was six. If ever I fall
out of love, madam, I feel as blank as a prison-wall,
and make shift to fall in again, as fast as I can.
Flo.
Whom art thou in love with now, light heart?
Dol.
That is a question craves some answering.
But, as I think, with a young 'prentice boy.
Flo.
With a 'prentice boy! Where does he dwell?
how does he look? and what is he called?
Dol.
He dwells with one Master Fuller, the goldsmith.
he is called—
Flo.
Roy Mallet!
Dol.
Think you there is but one 'prentice in the
world, madam? No, faith; that hare is none of my
hunting. My boy wears his beauty with a difference,
o' the inside. Master Mallet is too fine a gentleman
for me; and I think he is bespoken.
Flo.
Dolly, you are sure you gave him my letter?
Dol.
Very sure. And that he kept your hest and
tore it before my eyes.
Flo.
So easily! does that look like love?
Dol.
Very much, as he did it.
Flo.
Ah! It is a handsome boy.
Dol.
Of the outside? I grant you; and would
look well in a laced hat with a sword-knot.
Flo.
What if he should one day wear one? Will
he come? These boys are so shy.
Dol.
We shall see
(a whistle without)
What's that?
Flo.
Ah I had forgotten.
Dol.
Captain Magnus's signal.
Flo.
So comes the hard fit again.
Dol.
You will not see him.
Flo.
I must.
Dol.
Rude overbearing fellow! There is one who
carries his finery as if it were none of his, like the jay
in the peacock's feathers. Why do you bear with him?
No questions, Dolly. Remember what I pay
you for, and that I bought your ears and eyes, to use
at my discretion. Bring Captain Magnus in, while I
fit myself to receive him. I shall be back directly.
(aside)
Will the boy come?
(Exit)
Dol.
This is a strange service of mine, and one
that knocks hard at times at the door of my conscience,
and my curiosity too. Was ever waiting-maid
before to whom some of her mistress's secrets were as
fast-closed doors? It is a merry life my lady leads,
but there is some owl's work at the back of it which
blinks at the daylight.
(whistle)
The Captain again!
I must not keep him waiting.
(looking out)
Somebody
with him. Why, it's the boy Tim!—Captain,
you may come in.
Enter Hardy and Tim.
Dol.
Tim!
Tim.
Dolly!
Har.
Ha, ha, ha! Now on the word of a freelance
and a true soldier, this is the rarest fellow ever
born to smell powder! Fair Mistress Dolly, permit
me to present to you the ghost of Alexander the
Great! “Valour alone, valour alone
(humming)
Matcth with grace, when all is done.” Julius Cæsar
—Mistress Dorothy Partlett; Mistress Dorothy Partlett
—Julius Cæsar! Cross the Rubicon, Julius, and
books! (taking up a book and throwing himself on a couch)
The loves of Chloe and Celadon!
Dol.
(to Tim)
In the name of common-sense, baby,
what brings you here?
Tim.
Can you ask?
Har.
Ha, ha, ha! “The nymph she blushed, the
shepherd sued,—The maid was willing to be wooed.”
Dol.
Captain Magnus!
Har.
The book, child, the book!
Tim.
Captain, you put me out.
Har.
I ask pardon all round. To it again!
Tim.
(to Dolly)
I repeat—can you ask?
Dol.
Stupid, of course I can. And I mean to be
answered. What brings you here?
Tim.
Love!
Dol.
Fiddlestick!
Har.
Flames and fury! I beg pardon—the book!
Tim.
Dolly, I am a good sleeper. Master Fuller
has a knack of quarrelling with my powers of sleep.
But last night I never closed my eyes for the thought
of you, and when the noble Captain offered to bring
me where you were, what could I do but come?
Dol.
You are a very silly boy. What have you to
do with the noble Captain?
Tim.
Beautiful girl! I am his slave for this.
Har.
A slave to be proud of. Pretty Dolly, reject
with the story of his valour. He has sworn for the
love of thy bright eyes to take Rufus Hardy the highwayman
alive or dead.
Tim.
That I have!
Har.
And to eat him!
Tim.
That I have not!
Dol.
Good faith, you might as well take one oath
as the other. Mind your work and your workshop,
and leave Rufus Hardy to the officers.
Tim.
O, Dolly!
Dol.
Hush! my mistress.
Enter Florien.
Tim.
Oh! what a beautiful woman!
Dol.
Tim!
Tim.
But isn't she?
Flo.
I am at your service, Captain Magnus. Who
is this with you?
Har.
My henchman and lieutenant, last night
appointed to a commission in Magnus's irregulars.
Timothy Button, Esquire, in the service of Master
Fuller, the goldsmith.
Flo.
Of Master Fuller!—Dolly, is this the youth
with the concealed beauties?
Dol.
The same, madam.
Flo.
I am glad to make him welcome. Master
Button, yours!
Oh, Mistress Florien!
Flo.
Dear me!
(to Dolly)
Which of us is he in
love with?
Dol.
With me
(to Tim)
Don't stare like that.
Har.
Ha, ha! Chloe and Celadon!
Flo.
Take him to the garden, Dolly. I have business
with Captain Magnus. My maiden will take care
of you, sir.
Dol.
Indeed I will.
(to Tim)
Come!
Tim.
Wherever you lead me! Madam, I humbly
take my leave.
Har.
Julius, farewell! Remember Rufus Hardy!
Tim.
I do! I do!
Dol.
Come.
(Exeunt Tim and Dolly)
Har.
A gallant hero!
Flo.
It is not of him
You came to speak with me.
Har.
As quick as ever!
And ever in the right. But let me look
Well at my handiwork. You are indeed
A fair and pleasant woman, and well graced
With all the accidents of birth and breeding;
Of birth especially. Ha, ha! the world,
Which wonders of what mystic stock you spring,
Would turn its wonder to a new account,
If Truth were called into the witness-box,
To shew you as you are.
What is your will?
What do you want of me?
Har.
You know.
Flo.
I guess.
What Rufus Hardy wants is shortly told.
Money.
Har.
Precisely.
Flo.
I have none to give.
I am tired of your exactions.
Har.
So am I:
And fain would lead the life of Honesty,
Had I the wherewithal. Having it not,
I must take toll of Fortune. I must have
Money, or fair equivalent of gems,
To keep me for a time in competence,
And as becomes my dignity and place:
So Florien is again my treasurer.
Flo.
Florien will be your treasurer no more.
Har.
Take care!
Flo.
I do not fear you; and, for money,
Why do you need it now? The other night
You filled your coffers with Kilrose's best,
As you have filled them over and again
Through my contriving. Would you levy more,
While yet the stream you drain is starved and dry?
I will not help you. Take you to the road,
And force again your lawless living there,
Is he that traffics on a woman's wit,
And at a woman's risk? I vow to Heaven,
I will not give you doit or dole again!
Har.
I like you in that temper. On my life,
I think I was a fool to let you go,
When once I had won you. But your eloquence
Is idle, though becoming. I am followed,
In rather hot pursuit, for certain deeds—
As you say—manly—done upon the road
With some incaution, and lie by awhile
As Captain Magnus. Till my character
Cries quits again with conscience, you must find
The means to keep my worthy band and me
In an enforcëd sloth. Upon my honour,
We will to honest work again as quick
As self-respect can urge.
Flo.
I say again,
I have not means to help you if I would,
Just for the moment. You do know my life
Precarious as your own; I play at hazard
With Fortune every hour, and load the dice
Too much for safety from so apt a foe.
I have no more than money for my needs—
The gamester's god has played me false of late—
I cannot help you.
Har.
I am always fair,
Might make an Empress. In a week I come
With my request again.
Flo.
And in a week
Or now, or in an hour, or in a year,
I will refuse it. Take my answer now,
With all the scorn it bears.
Har.
You drive me far,
Too far for wisdom. In a week I say.
If then you say me nay, the town shall read
Its favourite Florien's riddle, who she is,
And what; no lady of mysterious birth,
Who plays with hearts and dice both for her choice
In very lack of care, but just no more
Than a stray mountebank born at a fair,
And cradled on a tight-rope; rescued thence
To be the wife, and, after, the decoy
Of Rufus Hardy, highwayman and thief.
Flo.
Then, Rufus Hardy, thief and highwayman,
My fall shall carry yours; for I denounce you
As Captain Magnus, and your last disguise
Falls in a patch of rags from off your back,
To leave you bare for Tyburn. Oh, indeed,
You tell my story right: a poor lost girl,
Fighting in tinsel for her starveling wage,
And made the gaze and gape of staring eyes,
Which warped and twisted the sad heart within,
That make and soften woman, fled to air,
And left her marble, yet a woman still—
And still with half a child's unthought of wrong,
And half the careless nature of a child,
To float her bark upon the treacherous sea,
Which gulfs alive the stately merchant-ship,
But saves the waifs and strays!
Har.
Upon which sea
I launched the pretty little painted bark,
With mother-wit and beauty hand in hand,
To guard the helm. Have you quite forgot
How much you owe me?
Flo.
No, indeed: not I!
Forgotten, how you lured me to your side?
Forgotten, how you swore your birth was noble,
Your having rich and honest? made of me
Your wife, while yet a child, with heart untouched,
But fancy dazzled by the promised home?
Forgotten, how your tawdry broidered ways
Deceived the child, because a child she was?
Forgotten, how I startled at the truth
In sudden waking, finding what you were,
And what the home you made me; how you sought
A partner not for love but robbery!
Forgotten, how I fled and how you followed,
To force me to a compact!
Which you keep.
And I. I left you free from wifely ties,
And never asked a husband's right of love,
Even from so sweet a creature. I installed you
Here, in a palace fitted for a queen,
And threw the glamour of adventure round you,
Lighting the light which singes butterflies—
Flo.
I paid the debt with interest ten times o'er!
Har.
I know it. 'Twas investment well bestowed.
That was your side of the bargain. Both have kept it.
Flo.
And I keep mine no more.
Har.
You have forgotten
One thing alone. Can you not say again
The solemn oath that binds you to your bond
With penalties you dare not play withal,
Even to a hair's breadth?
Flo.
Yes! You made me swear it
Even in the very agony of fear
Which taught me first to know you. Oh, my God,
I am a poor, unskilled, and friendless girl,
Unknowing of the truth, condemned to sin
By some mysterious power I wot not of,
And feel, but cannot see! Is there no way
To break an oath like that, and save a soul?
If such as I have souls that perish not,
As I believe, and fear!
There is no way.
Flo.
Give me the week to think. But in that time
How can I find the money that you ask,
Unless I pawn my jewels for your greed
And lose the very place you set me in,
Spoiling your purpose?
Har.
I will tell you that.
To-day you see Roy Mallet.
Flo.
What? Roy Mallet?
Who told you so?
Har.
What matters it? I know.
The boy is mad for your divinity;
His master is the goldsmith, Master Fuller,
Whose strong-box has a province for its worth,
And will have more. Not all Kilrose can yield,
Were worth a tithe of what that wholesome box
Prisons in little. In a week, the road
Into that strong-box must be free of pass
To all King James's lieges—and of them
None is more loyal than your humble friend
And servant to command. You understand?
Flo.
Thou villain!
Har.
Yes; I know.
Flo.
I like the boy.
Har.
I know you do.
Flo.
His young face pleads with me
More than a herd of courtiers.
So I think;
And that is why I ask you.
Flo.
That is why
I will not do it.
Har.
Think on't for a week.
Flo.
I cannot do it. 'Tis an honest boy,
Devoted to his master.
Har.
In a week
Devotion answers to a finer spur.
You seem to know already much of him.
Flo.
You do but trifle. In a poor seven days
What can I do?
Har.
That secret is your own.
I know not how you'll do't; but that you can
I feel assured; I honour you so much.
Flo.
You are wrong, my lord and master: I refuse.
Har.
You will not. Take a week to think of it.
Flo.
I do not need it: I defy you!
Har.
Yes?—
Some one is coming.
Flo.
(changing her tone as Dolly enters)
Captain Magnus, sit!
What is it, Dolly?
Dol.
Visitors, madam: at sight of whom my
gallant 'prentice tumbled over his shoe-tie, and
vanished like a vision.
Har.
Bravo, Julius!
I am in no mood for new visitors.
Dol.
They bring you a packet, madam, which you
had sent for. It is Master Fuller the goldsmith, and
his daughter.
Har.
Ah!
Flo.
Let them leave the packet.
Har.
A pretty lady, Miss Dolly, the daughter, is
she not?
Dol.
Pretty and pale, and as shy as a blush-rose.
Har.
I have heard of her, and I heard talk in the
city of her and the young Mallet.
Flo.
Of her and the young Mallet?
Har.
Their names have been much coupled.
Flo.
I will see this girl. Dolly, shew them in.
Dol.
Yes, madam.
(Exit)
Har.
You do well. For you the daughter—for me
the father. I will take stock of the goldsmith.
Flo.
They are here.
(Re-enter Dolly, shewing in Fuller and Mary.)
Ful.
A fine and stately house, Mary, and wrought
and furnished in excellent good taste. That golden
lustre in the hall below might be coined into ducats
enough to float an argosy. I speak to Mistress Florien?
(exit Dolly)
Flo.
To the same, Master Fuller.
Your ladyship's rooms are in excellent good
taste, and worthy, if I may say so, of her that inhabits
them.
Flo.
You flatter me. This is your daughter?
Ful.
She is: my only child, and, since her dear
mother died, the only bit of woman left to twine
round my old heart. She has had crosses of late and
disappointment, and so have I. It is but a cross
world in many ways, and the key of the puzzle is not
in my keeping.
Har.
Yet they do say that Master Fuller keeps
keys of gold to all the storehouses of Fortune.
Ful.
It may be as your Honour says. But wealth
is a poor anchor in trouble, and a bad leech in sickness.
Har.
You do it wrong. It is a soft nurse for the
one, and a beacon ahead at the end of the other. It
is a better plaster for sore thoughts than any that man's
with hath yet invented. Price me this cabinet now,
Master Fuller, and look into the handiwork.
Ful.
It is a good piece of cunning, sure enough.
Flo.
(who has been speaking apart with Mary)
You
have not told me, child, your true purpose in
following your father hither?
Mar.
Indeed, my lady, it is that I wished to see you.
Flo.
Are you pleased?
Mar.
You are all they say of you, and more.
Flo.
All that who say?
All the town, lady. There was one at our
house but yesterday who set your praises to the tune
of a whole madrigal.
Flo.
Indeed! How was he called that was at your
house?
Mar.
The Lord Kilrose.
Flo.
Oh, he. I would he would change his note.
Har.
(apart with Fuller)
This way, Master
Fuller, as we have begun. I will shew you a rare old
chest within here, with a lock which puzzles me. You
may be able to shew me the trick of it.
Ful.
It will go hard with me if I cannot. There
are few locks I cannot teach to open.
Har.
I have e'en found the same true of myself.
Ful.
Indeed? are you of the craft, then?
Har.
Not precisely; but affiliated, Master Fuller.
Look—this way.
(Exeunt Hardy and Fuller)
Mar.
My father and the gentleman are gone, and
I am alone with you for a moment. Oh, lady, do you
know Roy Mallet?
Flo.
Roy Mallet? who may he be?
Mar.
You do not know him? I had forgotten—he
said that you looked on him but once. Oh, lady, he
is my father's 'prentice, a good honest boy who has
lived and grown with us, and is very dear to our
hearts. But of late he has foregone his work and his
pleasures, to dream of things above his station. Till
but yesterday I did.
Flo.
Indeed! This tale of city life is interesting, if
as you say I have looked upon its hero once. What
was the clue you gained?
Mar.
That one look, lady.
Flo.
That one look—from me?
Mar.
Even from you. Roy Mallet loves you,
madam.
Flo.
What folly!
Mar.
So it is indeed; but the most foolish thing
is often the most true. Oh, lady, do not encourage
him, for it will be his ruin.
Flo.
Thank you. Was that well said?
Mar.
It was said honestly. You are not of his
kind, nor he of yours. And you have so many, many
hearts, while I have only one.
Flo.
You love this 'prentince, then?
Mar.
Did I say so much?
Flo.
Ay: and more.
Mar.
Yes: I do love him.
Flo.
And he you?
Mar.
No.
Flo.
Ah! Are you sure? You are not pledged to
each other?
Mar.
No. But I hoped we might be, and so did
my father, till the day you came.
You are a very foolish girl. I have looked on
this paragon but once, and all unwitting of the
grievous harm I was doing, I spoiled his pattern love-tale!
My little city-maiden, your prize cannot be
worth the winning, and you are well quit of it.
Mar.
It may be so—I cannot tell. But I know that
I would keep it if I could. Oh, lady, I know that he
will try to see you. Do not receive him!
Flo.
No?
(aside)
What is it tells me this is the
crisis of my life? Does he love me? Do I love him,
that never loved any man? Am I between my good
and evil angels, if such there be, and who shall point
the road?
(Re-enter Hardy and Fuller.)
(aside)
Ah! I will not see the boy!
Har.
A very useful lesson, goldsmith. Thanks.
(aside)
What have they been saying?—I am come to
take my leave, madam. I thought I saw one in the
street below,
(aside to Florien)
who is like to be a
more welcome visitor.
Flo.
Roy Mallet?
Har.
He.
Flo.
I shall not receive him.
Har.
Think of it.
Ful.
(who has been with Mary)
Good lady and
wonder at your house. I have with me that which
should help to grace your store, the bracelet which
you left with me.
Flo.
(taking the bracelet)
It is a handsome piece of
work.
Ful.
It is indeed: and though I say it that should
not, riveted faster and better fitted than when it first
left the maker's hands. In some respects, look you,
madam, he made but a blundering job of it after all.
Flo.
I thank you for your pains, friend, and will
detain you no further.
Ful.
Faith, madam, time is well lost in your service,
and I part with the bracelet with regret, that would
have none but myselfe it in your hands. Mallet,
my 'prentice, would fain have brought it—would he
not, Mary?—but I bade the boy stick to his trade
and leave gadding. Never look so pale, Mary. It
is a case between them, my lady, a case, as the boy
has in secret owned to me.
Flo.
Ah! Are you sure of that?
Ful.
Trust me to make no mistake, madam.
(aside)
Heaven forgive me if I am wrong!—But I am
tedious, and I withdraw. Good-morrow, madam—
your Honour's humble servant.
Har.
Yours, goldsmith, to command. And yours,
pretty mistress.
(bowing)
Sir!—You will not see Roy Mallet,
lady?
Flo.
You did well to speak. Go now.
Mar.
(aside)
What will she do?
(Exeunt Fuller and Mary)
Flo.
Did you say Mallet is there?
Har.
I did.
Flo.
I shall not see him.
Har.
You must. Bah! I know you better than
you know yourself, and to show my perfect confidence
in you—
Flo.
Ah!
Har.
I shall leave you alone with him. In a week
I shall come back. Till then—my angel—
(going)
Flo.
Not that way. By the secret door.
Har.
You are right. I am contraband. Remember!
(Exit)
Flo.
Remember, villain! Have I time to think?
Or have I e'en the power, had I the time?
Am I upon the verge? the boy is there,
Whose very look quickened a pulse in me,
Which never beat before, and gave a form
To dreams and fancies which had gathered wild
In an untrained, unlessoned, yearning heart,
Which, reaching forth for something, found it not,
But only wildered in its own amaze,
Blank, sad, and tearless! Is he there, the boy?
The plunge is taken, and the future spreads
A chartless sea of danger in the front,
Threatening a shipwreck. No—he shall not come.
Back to thy follies, Florien! for to thee
One drop of Truth were as a draught of wine,
Poisoned to murder! Thou art born to play,
And be a plaything. Seek not aught beside,
At peril of thy Queenhood's giddy crown;
Leave work to work; leave him to home and her—
What? to that chit? that poor pale-hearted girl,
Who prates of Love as glibly and as smooth
As homebred misses talk of seats at church?
Why should I do it? (going to the casement)
Ah! the boy is there!
He sees me!—What a look!—Oh how my eyes
Speed back his message on the wing of thought
Without a note of warning! There—again!
Oh—he has crossed the threshold. 'Tis too late—
I hear his very footfall on the stair—
Shall I receive him thus? chill him with frowns?
Preach down his youth with maxims? overawe
His bashfulness with this bedizened robe,
Fashioned for state? By womanhood, not I!
I cannot, and I will not! To my room,
To put the softest of my laces on,
And greet him like Apollo! To my room!
(Exit Florien. Enter Dolly and Roy.)
Dol.
Enter, fair sir; you may: the coast is clear;
And you may con the casket o'er and o'er,
Ere you do see the jewel. Tread you soft;
This carpet has a texture which resents
The weight of city-feet.
Roy.
Will you not go,
And tell your mistress I am here?
Dol.
What then?
Your worship's plea for entrance to a shrine,
Which opens for initiate worshippers,
But doth abhor the vulgar? What's your plea?
Roy.
No trifling, Dolly: I have brought your mistress
Something she lost.
Dol.
Something you lost, I think.
And I have found it. 'Tis upon your sleeve.
Roy.
I pray you, mock not. Bear my message to her:
And if she will not see me, I am gone
Back to my service.
Dol.
Roy! a word in time
Blossoms in season. Get thee back to it!
Thine eyes are set but loosely in thine head,
And stray afield. We are not overheard?
Roy.
Nay, listening is a privilege confined
To your persuasion. (a bell)
Hark!
My lady's bell:
She calls me to her.
Roy.
Go. Would I might take
My message for myself. Why linger you?
Dol.
You are a madman, running upon rocks
Another would have shunned. That other boy
Who works with you, albeit his looks may lack
A something of your mettle, has his sense
Stowed where it should be.
Roy.
Tim? the amorous Tim!
The daring Button! Love his guerdon be!
For he has sought it from his earliest days
In all directions!
Dol.
Love and sense are one,
Good Master Mallet, when they shoot at marks
Within a bow-stretch. When they try the moon,
They flounder into bogs. (bell)
The bell again!
I must be going.
Roy.
Do not stay for me.
Dol.
Your follies on your head! I tell you fairly,
You are embarked upon a dangerous cruise,
And founder. Peace be with you! I am gone.
(Exit)
Roy.
She shapes my fear in words. Why am I here,
Who should have bound me in mine own degree?
What overmastering passion draws me on
Into a passage set with thorns and briars,
Shews ne'er an outlet? Bah! There shines beyond
So bright a light, so silver and so clear,
That it might tempt the wariest passenger,
Who ever tramped afoot, to see before him
The fiery coursers of the Sun at wait,
Saddled for venture! If my very life,
My fortune, soul, were perilled on the throw,
I'd play with Fate for once, and sit me down,
A broken bankrupt if I lose the game,
Thankful for this—that I have risked, and played!
Will she receive me? Vanity alone
Has made me read such message in her eyes,
As never fell from lips articulate
With half such meaning! She was here but now
By yonder casement; and they spoke again
More bravely than before. Oh, will she come?
These minutes are an age,—'Tis she—'tis she!
Enter Florien.
Flo.
My handmaid tells me you would see me, sir;
But has not told me, what it is you would.
Bring you some message?
Roy.
I have brought you back
Something you lost last night.—I thought—perhaps—
Flo.
I? How so?
I do not know you.
Roy.
Pardon me. How fond
Was I to think you did. This is your kerchief:
You dropped it as you passed the tavern door.
I found and brought it. Now—my errand done,—
I take my leave. I pray you, pardon me.
(going)
Flo.
I pray you, be not hasty. For this gear
I owe you thanks at least. You must not go
Till I have thanked you.
Roy.
I am overthanked
By having seen you—thus—and thus attired,
In all the charm of home. If for a moment,
One foolish moment, I had dreamed your eyes
Had read strange things in mine, the dream is over.
You do not know me: let me work—and wake.
Flo.
Roy Mallet—
Roy.
What? My name is known to you?
Flo.
What if my servant told it me but now?
Roy.
I had forgot again. She would do so.
Flo.
What—if she did not?
Roy.
Did not?
Flo.
Stay awhile,
And sit you down. Are you so much in haste
To get you to your master's work again?
Be seated—will you not?
(aside)
I do not dream.
Oh, I have learned my lesson in her eyes,
Conned it by heart, and now I read it there!
Besides, her note! I had forgotten that,
Whose every word outlessons all the rest!
What would you, lady?
Flo.
Nay! a lady's would
Is as an answer, not a question, sir.
Is it your gallantry to ask of me
What—as you say—I would? How can I tell?
What woman ever can? You sought an audience:
It is for me to listen, not to speak.
Roy.
Oh, lady, I am come by note of hand,
Scarce knowing, and scarce asking, what I wish!
One day, when I was working in the sun,
Whose golden blazon seemed to mock my toil
On gems of mortal lustre—when my heart
Felt sick within of nothing, and my life
Grew in its every-day mechanic round
More void of purpose and more grey of hue—
One strange enchantress, with a single wave
Of her slight wand, made as her fairy foot
Brushed by in passing, changed the universe!
A royal palace took the workshop's place,
The gems outshone the sun—my heart grew light,
And gladdened to a beating, burning thing!
The grey was turned to rose, and purpose filled
And once looked on me! Then she passed away,
But voice and look left this behind them—love!
Flo.
(aside)
If every dream of passion turned to real,
If every thought unchastened found an aim,
If every vague desiring grew as strong
As giant in the battle—Hush! my mind
Has lost its hold on sense.—Yes? tell me more.
Roy.
And so it grew: grew, though it looked not on me,
That magic face, again. Almost I thought
That look a vision sent me to beguile
Hard and unwelcome toil; but it lived on,
Reflected in the mirror of my mind,
And circled in mine eyes.
Flo.
It came not back,
This mirage of your dreams, this fantasy
Born in a moment—in a moment sped?
You did not love this lady of the air,
But merely hugged delusion for your sport,
And made a wordy worship of her charms,
As an excuse for idleness, Sir 'Prentice,
Or else I know you not.
Roy.
Why do you say so?
Flo.
If you had loved her, you had followed her,
Lived in her path, and wantoned in her eye,
Said pretty things at random, mocked at laughter,
Spurned at degree, and vowed yourself her slave,
Of well-conceited poesy, and made her
The pet and pastime of each idle hour!
That is what lovers do, who say they love.
Roy.
So do not I. But I did follow her,
Live in her path, and wanton in her eye,
Although it looked not upon me again!
Dumbly I followed—dumbly and unseen;
Or if so e'er my tongue essayed to speak,
My very passion held it at the root,
And curbed me into silence. If her eye
Wandered my way at hazard, then I shrank
Unnoted from her in the unnoted crowd,
And turned upon myself, to dream of her!
Flo.
You did all this for her?—and she who thought
You had forgotten!
Roy.
Florien!
Flo.
Oh my heart!
What have I said?
Roy.
Too little—or too much.
Flo.
Too much!
Roy.
Too little! for one day there came
A missive written in a strain of fire,
And set to harmony so passionate,
That it might shame the minstrelsy of Gods
To lose the trick of music. List to it—
I have it to the word!
I bade you tear it!
I bade you tear it! laid it for command
Upon your conscience, though even then I thought
My favour thrown away on one who knew not
How to deserve such favour. But methinks
You did not need so much encouragement.
I thought you were a boy.
Roy.
And so I am,
If boyhood be a maidenhood of love!
Will you not hear your letter?
Flo.
Give it me—
For you have disobeyed me.
Roy.
Not a jot.
The dangerous scroll is scattered to the wind:
But that same wind bears all the fragments back,
Knit in a new adherence. So they ran—
“You shall see, whom you shall. And, for the first
proof that you are worthy, tear this rash writing
before my messenger. “Florien.”
Flo.
How strange it sounds. Your memory is good.
Did I write that?
Roy.
I think so. The first proof
I have already given. Will you not
Propose some second test?
Flo.
What test?
Roy.
I love you!
Bid me but prove it.
Love! Come hither, boy;
And look into mine eyes. Did you not say
But now, you had a maiden heart to give,
Unworn of service, and not filed away
With much professing?
Roy.
I do swear 'tis so.
Flo.
Is there no woman living who can claim
An interest in you?
Roy.
On my honour, none.
Flo.
The goldsmith's daughter?
Roy.
Mary? She and I
Have lived as brother and as sister—love
Even in the same proportion: but no thought
Of other ties e'er stirred in her or me.
Flo.
(aside)
The truth is in his face! Dare I believe
All my heart whispers? Hardy! from some ambush
Of bitter thought his image threatens me,
And hisses in mine ear! That boy—my oath—
Fuller—I dare not!
Roy.
Florien! what is this?
Why is your face so changed? what is't you fear?
Flo.
Nothing! myself—you—all! Oh, get you gone!
This place is as a marsh, where fair things grow
In rank luxuriance, and the perfumed air
Is fraught with Death and Pestilence! Begone!
I will not do to thee one jot of harm.
Roy.
Leave you? leave you now
When your own lips have half confessed the creed,
Which I would have you cherish as your life!
Leave you? if Pestilence and Death be here,
Why, they must threaten you; and if they do,
I had rather meet them for the love of thee,
Than 'scape them with the world! Young as I am
I offer you my youth! What others have,
I know not: Wealth, and title, and renown,
And all the gilded toys which dress a man,
But cannot make him, these I cannot bring,
Only my youth and heart—myself alone!
Flo.
And thou thyself are dearer to me, boy,
Without the trappings false as those they deck,
Even for thy youth and love and honesty,
And the clear light that flashed into thine eyes,
When in a moment they crossed swords with mine,
And both the blades flashed fire! Away with fears!
I will not list to them: Away with doubts!
My heart will none of them.—You see me here
As full of love as you, as young, as eager
To taste the magic cup which cures mankind
Of everlasting thirst—to thirst again!
You followed fearless where your passion led;
As fearless follow I! I love you: kneel!
(kneeling)
Oh, is this love? or madness? At your feet!
Flo.
(a bell heard)
Rise: there is someone coming; Dolly warns me
Of an approach.
Enter Dolly.
What is it?
Dol.
Pardon, madam:
It is my Lord Kilrose.
Flo.
What does he here?
What would he with me now? I cannot see him.
Dol.
Have you forgotten that he calls for you
By your appointment?
Roy.
He—the Lord Kilrose—
At your appointment?
Flo.
Silence, sir! obey me
When I command.
Roy.
I will.
Dol.
(aside)
So far already!
Flo.
Why did you let him enter?
Dol.
'Twas my duty.
I heard you bid him come. (aside)
I was a fool
To do my duty.—He is on the stair.
Flo.
Plague on his visit! I must see him, Roy;
But I would have your presence here unknown,
And you must leave me.
You go forth with him?
Flo.
No: that I will not.
Roy.
Thanks!
Flo.
But leave me now;
I'll send for you again. You will come back?
Roy.
Do you ask that? I leave you at your wish,
To dream of you until I come again.
(going)
Flo.
Not that way—Dolly, by the secret door.
Roy.
The secret door!
Flo.
Let jealousy be dumb,
Till love has spoken freely! Fare you well.
Roy.
'Tis but your lips that say it; for your eyes
Bid me remain.
Flo.
Leave thou mine eyes unread.
The Lord Kilrose!—good-bye!
Roy.
(aside)
The eyes said—Stay!
(he hides behind some tapestry unnoticed. Enter Lord Kilrose)
Kil.
I come upon mine hour. What? still unarmed?
Fye, Florien, fye! the day goes westward ho;
The Sun is on his road to dinner-time;
The wines are cooling in their icy bed,
And all things wait for you. The Mall is empty
Until your presence fills it, and your band
Of sworn adorers keeps the ring for you.
Yet here are you still wantoning at home,
Undecked for triumph!—Dolly, what is this?
Dol.
Good my lord,
My mistress knows her mind. Know it from her.
Flo.
That mind is changed, my lord. I am not well,
And rest me here to-day. I pray you, find
Some other goddess for the nonce, and fashion
Some newer idol. Incense wearies me;
And I shall sleep the sounder, lacking it.
Kil.
I know you better. Incense is your life;
You thrive on homage. Come! a breath of air
Will blow these whims away.
Flo.
I say I will not.
I tell you leave me; come again to-morrow—
The next day—any day—or not at all—
I am not i'the vein for pleasure, truly,
When it is tedious. I would be alone.
Kil.
You trifle with us, Florien.
Flo.
Well, why not?
You set me the example.
Kil.
Here are flowers—
Flo.
Take them away; the scent is stale and old;
And dress some other doll in them. My lord,
Leave me alone. I am going to my room.
Kil.
You need not: I would never be to you
As an unwelcome guest. But carry not
These whims too far.
Flo.
Command me not too much.
Kil.
As you will.
But, as I love you truly, have a care.
Flo.
Love! 'tis a word you know not of.
Kil.
Good-bye.
Flo.
Dolly, conduct him.
Kil.
Cruel fair, farewell.
I leave the flowers; they shall grace none but you.
To-night, I pray you, sleep these fancies off,
And be yourself again.
Dol.
This way, my lord.
Kil.
Come, mistress door-keeper.
(Exeunt Kilrose and Dolly)
Flo.
Alone at last!
Alone with thought and love! Why did he go,
That over-hasty boy, nor read my wish,
And tarry somewhere, anywhere? The room
Is blank without him. Wherefore is he gone,
And whither? Is he with that girl again,
And hearing sermons for his good? These weeds
Poison the place he filled!
(throwing the flowers away)
Had I been he,
Not twenty lords had driven me from my ground;
I would have held my vantage with my life,
And never wavered!
Roy.
Florien!
Flo.
(stooping and kissing him)
Daring Roy!
Curtain.
Some weeks are supposed to pass before the Curtain rises again.
| Florien | |