University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—St. Paul's.
Enter Belmont and Wilford, disguised as Yeomen.
Bel.
Now, Wilford, still thy comrade when at school
Or college; when 'twas peace, thy playfellow,
Thy right-hand man in war; I'm by thee still
In simple guise of honest yeoman's son,
To do the bidding of thy fantasy.
What is't?—Why are we thus attired?—What road
Are we to take? on what adventure bound?
The argument wilt thou unfold to me
Of this romance which thus we now begin?
I see thy cheek is pale—thine eye, without
The gladsome light that speaks a heart at rest;
Still, to my questioning, answerest thou:—
“Come, don a yeoman's coat and roam with me.”—
Thy wish is done—Do mine. Unbosom thee,
For till I find thy heart, I lack my own.

Wilf.
Remember'st, Belmont, what thou saidst to me,
When such, or such, if e'er I took a wife,
I said should be the 'haviour of my bride?

Bel.
'Twas this:—“In vain premise or calculate,
How thou shalt fall in love. A fever that!
Which comes upon you, sudden as the plague,
Or intermittent! Love by rule, forsooth!—
Love by philosophy!—Thou shalt be smit
In the twinkling of an eye!—infected by
A touch!—this minute sound as mountain health,
And helpless next, as bed-rid tenant of
An hospital.” And hast thou proved it so?

Wilf.
Attend. Last week, I could not go the length
Of Ludgate Hill, but I must horse it thither.
Returning thence, a motley group of men,
Mechanics, servants, masters, old and young,
Collected round some object, which they seem'd
To gaze with most admiring wonder on,
Attracted me—What think you 'twas? A maid—
A maid attired in costless suit, but neat,
Of humble russet!—such a distance wide
Removed from any child of luxury
Or wealth, that e'en a simple ribbon knot
Denied its aid to set her bonnet off,
Or snowy coif and kerchief! But what wealth
Had nature rain'd where fortune seem'd to grudge
The poorest drop of her enriching shower!
Sight could not take it in!—the tongue would stop
Ere it could sum it half—all terms of praise
Too scant to value loveliness so rare!
At thought of winning it, the heart grow wild,
As his whom overflowing affluence
Lifts from the depth of want! There stood the maid,
Silent and motionless, with eyes on ground,
Abash'd by the reflection of herself,
Cast back upon her so on every side
From mirrors that her charms described, indeed,
By showing her their power!

Bel.
Remark'd she thee?

Wilf.
She did! My restless courser startled her;
She raised her eyes; and, lo! they fix'd on mine
With look, methought, of recognition, that
I felt as though our very souls embraced,
And through me ran a thrill unknown before;
When, spiteful chance! my steed more restive grew,
Defied command alike of spur or rein,
And bore me from the maid!

Bel.
Ask'd you not who
She was?

Wilf.
No.

Bel.
No!

Wilf.
As one in jeopardy
Will lack possession of himself, nor use
Some means of succour, at his very hand,
I did not think of that, till out of reach on't!
My steed, at length, compell'd—by whom I know not—
To check his mettle, I dismounted straight
And hasten'd back on foot—but she was gone!—
If my first look of her hath been my last,
I'll never care to look on woman more!

Bel.
Thy lot is cast! I told thee, Wilford, so!
To such conclusion ever comes his work
Who makes philosophy the rule of love.
Love knows no rule, and never rule knows less
Than when obedience we'd exact from it.
'Tis an uncertain and a froward guest;
Comes to us when it lists; abides as long
As pleases it; and its own humour takes,
Whatever may be ours! You'd go in quest on't—
And lo! 'tis with you before setting out;
You'd lay down terms for its sojourning with you—
And here it is on its own terms at home;
You'd fain be rid on't, and 'tis fain to stay;
You'd thrust it out of doors, and only find
The threshold's not your own, the moment love
Sets foot within it. Mean'st to seek this maid?

Wilf.
Ay, through the world!

Bel.
I'll help thee in the search;
And if we find the city holds her not,
As far as Rumford bear me company—
Whither, this week, perforce I must repair—
And thence, where'er thou point'st, will I be thine.

Wilf.
Come on! I tell thee, if I find her not,
I'm tenant for the house the sexton builds.

[They go out.