University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Garden before a Country House.
Enter Julia and Helen.
Helen.
I like not, Julia, this your country life.
I'm weary on't!

Julia.
Indeed? So am not I!
I know no other; would no other know!

Helen.
You would no other know! Would you not know
Another relative?—another friend—
Another house—another anything,
Because the ones you have already please you?
That's poor content! Would you not be more rich,
More wise, more fair? The song that last you learn'd
You fancy well; and therefore shall you learn
No other song? Your virginal, 'tis true,
Hath a sweet tone; but does it follow thence,
You shall not have another virginal?
You may, love, and a sweeter one; and so
A sweeter life may find, than this you lead!

Julia.
I seek it not. Helen, I'm constancy!

Helen.
So is a cat, a dog, a silly hen,
An owl, a bat,—where they are wont to lodge,
That still sojourn, nor care to shift their quarters.
Thou'rt constancy? I am glad I know thy name!
The spider comes of the same family,
That in his meshy fortress spends his life,
Unless you pull it down and scare him from it.
And so thou'rt constancy? Art proud of that?
I'll warrant thee I'll match thee with a snail
From year to year that never leaves his house!
Such constancy forsooth!—A constant grub
That houses ever in the self-same nut
Where he was born, till hunger drives him out,
Or plunder breaketh through his castle wall!
And so, in very deed, thou'rt constancy!

Julia.
Helen, you know the adage of the tree;—
I've ta'en the bend. This rural life of mine,
Enjoin'd me by an unknown father's will,
I've led from infancy. Debarr'd from hope
Of change, I ne'er have sigh'd for change. The town
To me was like the moon, for any thought
I e'er should visit it—nor was I taught
To think it half so fair!

Helen.
Not half so fair!
The town 's the sun, and thou hast dwelt in night
E'er since thy birth, not to have seen the town!
Our women there are queens, and kings our men;
Their houses palaces!

Julia.
And what of that?
Have your town-palaces a hall like this?
Couches so fragrant? walls so high-adorn'd?
Casements with such festoons, such prospects, Helen,
As these fair vistas have? Your kings and queens!
See me a May-day queen, and talk of them!

Helen.
Extremes are ever neighbours. 'Tis a step
From one to the other! Were thy constancy
A reasonable thing—a little less
Of constancy—a woman's constancy—
I should not wonder wert thou ten years hence
The maid I know thee now; but, as it is,
The odds are ten to one, that this day year
Will see our May-day queen a city one!

Julia.
Never! I'm wedded to a country life!
O, did you hear what Master Walter says!
Nine times in ten, the town 's a hollow thing,
Where what things are is nought to what they seem;
Where merit's name laughs merit's self to scorn!
Where friendship and esteem, that ought to be
The tenants of men's hearts, lodge in their looks
And tongues alone. Where little virtue, with
A costly keeper, passes for a heap;
A heap, for none, that has a homely one!
Where fashion makes the law—your umpire which
You bow to, whether it has brains or not!
Where Folly taketh off his cap and bells,
To clap on Wisdom, which must bear the jest!
Where to pass current you must seem the thing,
The passive thing, that others think; and not
Your simple, honest, independent self!

Helen.
Ay: so says Master Walter. See I not
What can you find in Master Walter, Julia,
To be so fond of him!

Julia.
He's fond of me!
I've known him since I was a child. E'en then,
The week I thought a weary-heavy one,
That brought not Master Walter. I had those
About me, then, that made a fool of me;
As children oft are fool'd; but more I loved
Good Master Walter's lesson, than the play
With which they'd surfeit me. As I grew up,
More frequent Master Walter came, and more
I loved to see him! I had tutors then,
Men of great skill and learning—but not one
That taught like Master Walter. What they'd show me,
And I, dull as I was, but doubtful saw,—
A word from Master Walter made as clear
As daylight! When my schooling days were o'er—
That's now good three years past—three years—I vow
I'm twenty, Helen!—well, as I was saying,
When I had done with school, and all were gone,
Still Master Walter came!—And still he comes,
Summer or winter!—frost or rain! I've known
The snow upon a level with the hedge,
Yet there was Master Walter!

Helen.
Who comes here?
A carriage, and a gay one—Who alights?
Pshaw! Only Master Walter! What see you,
Which thus repairs the arch of the fair brow,
A frown was like to spoil?—A gentleman!
One of our town kings! Mark!—How say you now?
Wouldst be a town queen, Julia?—Which of us,
I wonder, comes he for?

Julia.
For neither of us!
He's Master Walter's clerk, most like.

Helen.
Most like!
Mark him as he comes up the avenue;
So looks a clerk! A clerk has such a gait!
So does a clerk dress, Julia!—Mind his hose—
They're very like a clerk's! a diamond loop
And button, note you, for his clerkship's hat!
O, certainly a clerk! A velvet cloak,
Jerkin of silk, and doublet of the same!—
For all the world a clerk! See, Julia, see,
How master Walter bows, and yields him place,
That he may first go in,—A very clerk!
I'll learn of thee, love, how to know a clerk!

Julia.
I wonder who he is!

Helen.
Wouldst like to know?
Wouldst for a fancy, ride to town with him?
I prophesy he comes to take thee thither!

Julia.
He ne'er takes me to town! No, Helen, no!
To town who will, a country life for me!

Helen.
We'll see!

Enter Fathom.
Fath.
You're wanted, madam,

Julia
[embarrassed].
Which of us?

Fath.
You, madam.

Helen.
Julia! what's the matter? Nay,
Mount not the rose so soon! He must not see it
A month hence! 'Tis love's flower, which once she wears,
The maid is all his own!

Julia.
Go to!

Helen.
Be sure
He comes to woo thee! He will bear thee hence!
He'll make thee change the country for the town!

Julia.
I'm constancy. Name he the town to me,
I'll tell him what I think on't!

Helen.
Then you guess
He comes a wooing?

Julia.
I guess nought!

Helen.
You do!
At your grave words, your lips, more honest, smile,
And show them to be traitors. Hie to him!

Julia.
Hie thee to soberness.

[Goes out.
Helen.
Ay, will I, when,
Thy bridemaid, I shall hie to church with thee.
Well, Fathom, who is come?

Fath.
I know not.

Helen.
What!
Didst thou not hear his name?

Fath.
I did.

Helen.
What is't?

Fath.
I noted not.

Helen.
What hast thou ears for, then?

Fath.
What good were it for me to mind his name?
I do but what I must do. To do that
Is labour quite enough!

Wal.
[without].
What, Fathom!

Fath.
Here.

Wal.
[Entering.]
Here, sirrah! Wherefore didst not come to me?

Fath.
You did not bid me come.

Wal.
I call'd thee.

Fath.
Yes,
And I said “Here;” and waited then to know
Your worship's will with me.

Wal.
We go to town.
Thy mistress, thou, and all the house.

Fath.
Well, sir?

Wal.
Mak'st thou not ready then to go to town?

Fath.
You did not bid me to make ready, sir.

Wal.
Hence, knave, despatch!

[Fathom goes out.
Helen.
Go we to town?

Wal.
We do;
'Tis now her father's will, she sees the town.

Helen.
I'm glad, on't! Goes she to her father?

Wal.
No.
At the desire of thine, she, for a term,
Shares roof with thee.

Helen.
I'm very glad on't.

Wal.
What!
You like her then? I thought you would. 'Tis time
She sees the town.

Helen.
It has been time for that
These six years!

Wal.
By thy wisdom's count. No doubt
You've told her what a precious place it is?

Helen.
I have.

Wal.
I even guess'd as much. For that
I told thee of her; brought thee here to see her;
And pray'd thee to sojourn a space with her;
That its fair space, from thy too fair report,
Might strike a novice less,—so less deceive her.
I did not put thee under check.

Helen.
'Twas right,—
Else had I broken loose, and run the wilder!
So knows she not her father yet? That's strange.
I prithee how does mine?

Wal.
Well—very well.
News for thee.

Helen.
What?

Wal.
Thy cousin is in town.

Helen.
My cousin Modus?

Wal.
Much do I suspect
That cousin 's nearer to thy heart than blood.

Helen.
Pshaw! Wed me to a musty library!
Love him who nothing loves but Greek and Latin!
But, Master Walter, you forget the main
Surpassing point of all! Who's come with you?

Wal.
Ay, that's the question!

Helen.
Is he soldier or
Civilian?—lord or gentleman? He's rich,
If that's his chariot! Where is his estate?
What brings it in? Six thousand pounds a year?
Twelve thousand, may be! Is he bachelor,
Or husband?—Bachelor I'm sure he is!
Comes he not hither wooing, Master Walter?
Nay, prithee, answer me!

Wal.
Who says thy sex
Are curious? That they're patient, I'll be sworn;
And reasonable—very reasonable—
To look for twenty answers in a breath!
Come, thou shalt be enlighten'd—but propound
Thy questions one by one! Thou'rt far too apt
A scholar! My ability to teach
Will ne'er keep pace, I fear, with thine to learn.

[They go out.