Chapter 18

T.(aside). By Gemini, this is a nasty one.F.(reading as before).But be sure I never consented. If there is no other escape, I must fly. Come to-night to the garden. I will be at my window at eleven410o’clock.(Aloud.) Thank God, thank God. I breathe again.I shall see thee to-night.T.Pray, sir,Is anything the matter?F.Eh! ah! what said I?T.That you were dead, and then alive again.F.’Tis true.T.I quite believe it. And then you saidThat you would see her to-night.F.Pray mind your business, Tristram:Pay more attention to what is said to you,And less to what is not. Whom would you speak of?421T.I speak of no one, sir.F.No more do I.[Exit.T.My master’s mad. If this is court life, I shall soon curse my birthday, like dutiful Job. ’Tis a madhouse. If there were any sense in anything that’s said or done, I’d swear my life that the Countess was in love with my master, and he might have her for the asking. Yet who can tell what she means, when every one plays at being in love with somebody? ’Tis a fashion with them as catching as the measles. My constitution holds out, thank heaven. (Sings.)430The meads drink up the rain,The kine eat up the grass,And man feeds on the kine,And love on man, alas.So about and about! fa, la!And there’s a good light step to that tune, which Ippthink I can do as well as any I have seen. (Dances and sings.)So about and about! fa, la!So about and about! fa, la! etc.Re-enter Flora, who watches him awhile and then laughs aloud.440Fl.Ha! ha!Well fancy, Tristram! dancing all alone!T.Lack of company constrains a man to be alone; and as for dancing, ’tis the original sin Adam was born with. ’Twas seeing him dance alone provoked providence to send him a partner. ’Tis now the inheritance of lambs and such innocents: and wert thou not too depraved by a court life, I would ask thee to dance with me.Fl.I depraved! I will dance with you.450T.Canst thou?Fl.Ha! ha! About and about, fa, la! (Dancing.)(They dance to each other and then together; in and out among the chairs.)O softly, Tristram, softly; I am out of breath.T.You are not so depraved as I thought. Here’s the coin I pay in. (Kissing her.)Fl.I don’t like you, Tristram. You take more liberties in a day than others would in a month.T.Ah! ah! Oh wala! wala! (Puts his finger to his head.)Fl.What is it? Are you giddy?T.No, no. My constitution—my system.460Fl.What?T.I’m going mad like the rest of them. I’ve caught it too.Fl.Don’t talk so; to frighten me, Tristram, like that. What do you mean?T.Well, we shall make a better pair than two I know.Fl.I never promised. And what would my lady say? And—oh! I forgot: she sent me to fetch you.T.My lady?—me?470Fl.Yes, you.T.She sent for me?Fl.No sooner was she come in the house, than as she sat looking on the silks, one of her fits took her, and I thought she would faint: when suddenly she got up, and bade me go out and seek for you. See, here she comes.T.What can she need with me? (Aside.) If she has got wind of me and Flora, it’s all up.Re-enter Diana.D.(to Fl.). I see you have found him, Flora.Fl.We were coming, my lady, as fast as we could.481D.Leave us alone.[Exit Flora.Good Tristram; will you serve me?T.Certainly, my lady. My lady has only to command.D.But in a matter where your duty might seem opposed to my interest.T.’Tis impossible, my lady, that my duties could be opposed to my lady’s.D.I think, Tristram, that you know a secret which concerns me.T.I assure your ladyship, upon my oath....D.Stay now. Take this purse....T.I thank your ladyship.D.To convince you of my goodwill. Now I have a suspicion: and whether or no you help me to come at the truth, I shall learn it. I will not have secrets kept from me in my court.T.Certainly not, my lady. But I pray your ladyship to speak plainly, for I am a simple man; and if I am to assist your ladyship, I must understand your502ladyship.D.You are a very sensible servant, Tristram. Tell me then, do you not know of some one in the court, who carries on a love-affair behind my back?T.(aside). It’s me.—No, my lady: I do not. It is impossible that any one should do such a thing.D.Is not your master in love?T.Oh!... my master? Certainly; not a doubt of it.D.So I thought. Now you must tell me, good Tristram, with whom he is in love.T.If that’s the question, my lady, you may take back the purse again. Take it; I thought it was not like my luck.D.You will not tell?T.I cannot tell what I do not know, my lady.D.You do not know?520T.I have not an inclination.D.Stay yet. You shall keep the purse if you will do your best to discover who she is.T.Your ladyship is very fair (pocketing), and I thank your ladyship for restoring my confidence.D.Then tell me first. You say you know that your master is in love.T.Certainly; as much or more than all the court.D.All the court!530T.Except your ladyship ... I beg your ladyship’s pardon.D.Except me?T.And me.D.And you?T.And old Sir Gregory, I may say.D.Please, Tristram, keep to the matter. By what signs know you that your master is in love?T.First because he talks nonsense aloud to himself; then he reads and writes so many letters.539D.Letters, you say!T.Certainly. Why, the moment that you left,He pulled one out and read it to himself.And now I am dead, he says, and now I live;And all the rest of it.D.I must know from whomThat letter came.T.And that much I can tell.I saw him write it to himself, last night,And put it in his pocket. To my knowledge,He has never sent it, and received no other,Nor spoke to a lady since;—when, on a sudden,He whips it out, and reads it to himself550As if ’twere newly come. Then, off he goes,Bragging, ’tis an appointment for to-night.D.To-night?T.Ay, so he said. But he can’t hideThe truth from me. The fact is this, my lady;He makes believe. He sees that everybodyIs full of this same love: since ’tis the fashionHe’d be ashamed, just for the lack of a lady,To come behind. But all the love he makesIs to himself.D.But if there were a lady,Think you she would be of the court?T.Why certainly.D.How so?560T.Because ’tis only in the courtThat such ridiculous foolery would pass.D.Stay. If he loved a lady of the court,I think I must have known her.T.Very true.Your ladyship is right. If ’twere a lady,She could not be of the court.D.Then we must lookTo find her in the town.T.’Tis very plain,That if she is not in the court, she is in the town.D.I have set you on the track. If you will serve me,Discover who this lady is: observe570Your master narrowly; above all to-nightFollow him where’er he goes, watch all he does;And bring me word to-morrow. That’s the serviceFor which, good Tristram, I will pay you well.But can I trust you?T.I never deceived any one, my lady: and if I can discover my master’s secret, your ladyship shall know it. I hold, like your ladyship, that love is amost contemptible disease, from which a good servant should seek to deliver his master. But I don’t think580we shall find any lady.D.No lady, no pay, Tristram; remember that:And, above all, be secret. Now, go your way,And tell your master I wish to see him here.T.I will, your ladyship. (Aside.) And as for secrets—if you knew my master’s as well as I know yours, you would not need to take me into your pay.[Exit.D.To-night: they meet to-night. It may be nowThat I am in time: maybe they have never met,At least not thus. It seems they have carried on590The intrigue, so far, by letter, and now by letterThey have made their assignation for to-night.At last I have found out something ... it shall not be ...Their first ... no, no: that I can hinder....I trust the clown: he could not frame a tale;And what I gave him won him. Yet no guessWho she should be. It tortures jealousyTo know so little: still where little is knownMay little be. But Frederick doth not feign.Nay if he feigned he would not hide it from me:600And loved he not another, he would beMore open to my meaning when I try himWith such unveilings of my inclinationAs make me blush alone. O perverse love,At once triumphant and inscrutable,Palpable and impotent. What if he knowsI love him, and yet loves me not, but lovesAnother, a rival? But if he knows not,And if he knew, might love—while there’s that hope,They shall not meet: so much I can ensure.610I must be cruel to thee, my unknown foe:Thou lookest to meet him, but he shall not come.I’ll make him play thee false ... what vantage elseThat he is my servant? I can send him offWhither I will. Against this assignationI’ll make an alibi. My plan is ready:I’ll send him away from Belflor. Here he comes,My enemy and my deity. If he quarrelWith my command he is guilty; a word will show.Re-enter Frederick, with some papers, ink, and pen.F.Your ladyship sent for me.D.What have you there?620F.Some papers for your ladyship to sign.D.Set them down on the chair.F.I have brought besidesThe settlement for Lady Laura’s marriage.D.Thank you: ’tis time I had it. I cannot nowAttend to business. I have a message, Frederick,To send to Milan: it demands despatch,And you must bear it to-night.F.To-night, my lady!D.To-night. Why not to-night?F.No reason at all.Except....D.Except what?F.Since your ladyshipWell knows the full devotion which I lend630To her affairs, I fear not to incurBlame of remissness, if I beg for onceTo be excused this service.D.(aside).Ah, he is hit.F.I’d travel to the corners of the globeTo serve your ladyship: and in a journeySo light as this, one that would never burdenThe most unwilling servant, I can begWithout reproach that you will find for onceAnother messenger.D.What then prevents you?F.Good cause enough; though ’tis not of a natureTo welcome question.D.There’s no person, Frederick,640That more regards your health, nor more regretsYour slightest ailing than I do. I fearYou have done me wrong concealing from my knowledgeThe true state of your health ... but if ’twas kindnessTo spare me anxiety....F.I assure, my lady....D.I have thought you looked of late careworn and pale.F.My health is excellent.D.I am glad to hear it.F.The expression of your good will reassures meYour ladyship will humour me.D.And I wouldMost gladly, were it a matter that admitted650A bearer of less trust. But as it standsThere’s nothing for it but your going to-night.You are out of sorts, Frederick: maybe the travellingIs just the change you need. Give me that pen,I’ll write the letter at once. (F. gives and D. writes.)If you fear coldYou can close up the coach. The journey is short:’Twill cheer you, and do you good.F.(aside).Curse on my fate.How can I escape? What devil hath now possessed herTo thwart me thus? And after all my serviceTo insist: so small a matter.659D.(giving).Here is the letter.Deliver it, please, with your own hand. Leave hereAt six o’clock to-night. Take Tristram with you.’Twill make me more at ease on your behalf,In case you are ill. (gathering up papers.)And whatsoe’er you doReturn by noon to-morrow: at which hourI need the answer. You will oblige me much.I wish you a pleasant journey.[Exit taking the papers.F.Is that a blindfold player? Who is it to,This letter? The Duke of Milan! Ha! can it be!Is that the mischief? He is discovered, and I670Suspected of complicity, and thusShe would expose us both?Re-enter Tristram.We are both undone.T.(half aside). Another letter! came this like the lastBorne on the winds?F.(aside).She hath recognised the Duke,No doubt. ’Twas natural. But why suspectThat I am in his secret? Till I am sure,I must still play my part.T.(aside).Secrets again:More mysteries.F.(to T.). Order me horses, Tristram,At six o’clock.T.What! is she off?F.Who off?T.The lady you should meet to-night.F.Plague on you!680A coach at six: and be yourself preparedTo accompany me.T.Where go we?Re-enter Ricardo.F.To the devil.Order the horses.T.Is our destinationA secret?F.No.T.Then who will ride postilion?F.Go, fool, at once.[Exit T.(To R.)Richard, you come in time:You are recognised. See here! The Countess bids meDeliver you this letter.R.(taking).To me! Diana!Why! ’tis addressed to Milan. ’Tis impossible.Nay, nay; she knows not. What hath made you think it?F.Because she bade me post this night to Milan690To give this in your hands. I pleaded sickness,Begged she would find some other messenger:Yet she refused. She would trust none but me.R.And why, man, if you thought I was suspected,Did you refuse? Another messengerMust have betrayed me.F.True. I was a foolNot to have thought of that. No, now I think of it,I knew not whither I was to be sentWhen I excused myself. The fact is, Richard,I thought I was discovered, and lost my head.700Laura and I had fixed to meet to-night.Our only hope is flight: misleading others,She has fallen into a trap: she is bound to marryThat fool St. Nicholas. I must persuade herTo run away. Unless we meet, the momentOf all our life is past.R.I see it: I see it.—And so she hath writ to me! Why should these words,Writ by her hand so set my heart adance?Is it beautiful? Nay,—but ’tis my name that leadsEvery direction of these little curves,710Which, by long intercourse of hand and brain,Were specialised to typify and betrayThe hiding spirit? There are such secrets hereAs dazzle lovers’eyes. She will be mine.She wrote me a letter once before in scorn,With studied terms of coldness: yet to meThat seemed—I treasure it still—a lovers’meetingOf our two names on the same conscious page,A daring intimacy, her own betrothal.Was I deceived boasting so crazed a title?What saith she now?720F.Ha! do not break the seal.R.Is it not mine?F.She yet might ask it back:And ’twould betray us if I had given it up.R.Yes: you shall keep it till you start, and thenGive it to me. You must discover of courseThat I am away from home, and leave the letter.Will not that do?F.This is my ruin, Richard:It means that I must be away to-night;And that prevents my meeting Laura; and thatLeaves the field to my rival.Re-enter St. Nicholas.R.Hush! see, he comes.N.That paper you are in doubt of, gentlemen,731Is, I opine, the poem which I have lost:—You picked it up in the garden?—a private trifleWhich I’d recover gladly.R.I am sorry, sir,’Tis no such lofty matter. A letter it isSealed and addressed, which takes our friend away.But I can say with truth, I’d rate myselfThe happiest man in the world, could I believeThat what I hold was fashioned ever so littleIn your romantic vein.N.You make me proud, sir.740Yet, you should know, I do not think my poemsAs good as others think them: they are but trifles.I wish that I could stay to explain my meaning;But I must seek my sonnet.[Exit.R.Your rival. O heavens!F.A fool that fortune favours.R.Not at all.Diana hath here some purpose we have not guessed.Come to my room: there we will read her letter;And if it shew no sign of my discovery,I’ll write it such an answer as it asks;Which, when you have, you may perform your service,750And see your mistress both. ’Tis but to startAt the set time, and turn about in the dark.F.Make a pretended journey?R.An expeditionSome ten miles out and back.F.I’ll do it, Richard.O, you were ever excellent.R.ArrangeSome practicable stages; and rememberTo keep an eye on the time.F.Trust me.R.And, hark!If some night you should make the real journey,Would Laura fly with you?F.Fly where?R.I’ll tell you.759I have planned the whole thing for you: I put my palaceAt your command; my servants shall receive you;The archbishop marry you, and all my friendsAttend your fête.F.You cannot mean it, Richard!R.By heaven, I do: but you must first persuadeYour lady to make sail.F.That would be easy,With such a port to run for. But how soon?It could not be to-night.R.I need one dayTo warn my people. Come now to my room,Where we will read this letter. Our successDepends on secrecy.F.True.R.Go within:770To avoid encounter I will follow alone.F.To your room?R.Yes.F.Which suite are you in?R.They call itOne of the Grecian muses.F.Yes, but which?R.I quite forget. At the end of the corridor,Beyond the tower.F.I know. You’ll find me there.[Exit.R.To get this Frederick married, more concerns meThan anything else. ’Tis plain Diana loves him:And till he’s gone, ’tis folly to besiegeHer garrisoned heart. I must engage my skill,Like a wise general, to draw off the foe.780That I can do. ’Tis a most blessed chanceThat he is so well disposed, and hath a ladyReady to run off with him. The very thingI plot to save myself, most helps my friend.[Exit.Re-enter Tristram with a paper.T.I have found a prize: just exactly what I wanted: one of my master’s love-letters, or a piece of one,—that’s the third to-day,—lying on the walk. It was notthere when I went to order the horses, else I must have trod on it; but when I came back, it lay in the middle of the path, as if dropped from the skies. Reveal what it may, it goes to the Countess to-morrow; and it should stand me in something handsome. Unsealed, unfolded even, for any to read: and no name. Poetry like my master’s. There’s no harm in my reading, even though I should not understand.(Reads.)—‘Master of mine!'—Ha! ’tis the lady.‘Master of mine, remember for pity,What sobs of fluting lips, wan with dismay,’Poor thing!‘And malison of death, my soulless clay,800Panteth in thine unspeak’ble purgat’ry.’Unspeak’ble!—that is unspeakable; andpurgatree!—why the big O hath fallen out. I never loved this purgatory, and quarrel not at any shortening of it.—‘Enchained long whilom.’—Mysteries and crimes! chained is she? Where can he have chained her? and how, if she be chained, can she have cast this on the path? unless she threw it from the window....‘Enchained long whilom, was I fain to flee.’Just so! But is she fled or no? I wish she wrote clearer sense.(Re-enter St. Nicholas behind.)‘Enchained long whilom was I fain to flee;But thou, with wildered phantom disarray,Nightly disguised in the blue garb of day,815Besetdst the sleep-gates of my melanch’ly.’Hem!N.(coming forward). Tristram, where found you that? it was not intended for your reading.T.So I guess, sir; but if letters be purposely thrown open on the ground, they may be read by those for whom they were not intended.N.Give it to me. ’Tis mine.T.I see no sign of that, sir, unless you will say that everything which the ladies let fall belongs to you.N.No impertinence, man: give it me at once.T.Nay; I have my duty. This belongs to my master. I shall guard it for him.N.I tell you ’tis mine.T.So you said of Lady Laura’s glove.N.That has nothing to do with it. Give me the paper.T.Not till ’tis proved to be yours, sir: which can never be.N.I tell you, Tristram, that I wrote it myself.T.We shall soon see that, sir. This is writ by alady; who is prisoned or chained somewhere in the court. And she says;—well, what she says I cannot tell; but my master thinks she has run away, and has bade me order the horses to be after her.N.What ridiculous stuff you make of it, Tristram. ’Tis addressed to Love: you do not understand.T.Yes: it is love, and court love too: I understand that well enough, and I understand that ’tis writ to a man; therefore ’tis pikestaff-plain that ’tis writ by a woman: therefore it half follows that you did not write it: and therefore it belongs to my master.N.How therefore belongs it to your master?T.Why, whose else should it be? His letters come from the four quarters, no one knows whither; just where this came from.N.Nonsense, Tristram: I assure you ’tis mine.T.Think not to owl me thus.N.Man! I swear that I composed that poem myself. Had you any culture you would distinguish it from the poor style of a woman. It has fallen from my pocket by accident: and if you will not give it me, I must take it from you.T.Hands off, sir, now. I can’t think why you should try to get what belongs to another. You are mistaken. 'Master of mine’it says—and would a man write thus? (begins to read).N.Death! stop mine ears! That I should hear my verseAgain profaned by thee, thou baseborn clown.T.I read correctly, sir. If you find fault with my reading, ’tis the strangeness of the matter. I have good reasons for not parting with this; and I am not a baseborn clown.N.Worse; thou art a thief.T.Thief call you me? Now were the verses ten thousand times yours, sir, I’d never give 'em you. I defy you!N.Thou to defy me, slave; paid by the monthTo render menial offices to one875Himself the annual hireling of the ladyWhom I shall call my sister! O thou fool,If reason cannot work into thy skull'Cause of its wooden thickness, I’ll find meansTo punish thee.T.Good day, sir. Stand you here and rail. I must be off with my master after this lady. But I shall not forget your language to me, sir: be this paper what it will. [Exit.N.Tristram, Tristram, I beg of you! my sonnet! my sonnet!

T.(aside). By Gemini, this is a nasty one.

F.(reading as before).But be sure I never consented. If there is no other escape, I must fly. Come to-night to the garden. I will be at my window at eleven410o’clock.

(Aloud.) Thank God, thank God. I breathe again.I shall see thee to-night.

(Aloud.) Thank God, thank God. I breathe again.

I shall see thee to-night.

T.Pray, sir,Is anything the matter?

T.Pray, sir,

Is anything the matter?

F.Eh! ah! what said I?

T.That you were dead, and then alive again.

F.’Tis true.

T.I quite believe it. And then you saidThat you would see her to-night.

T.I quite believe it. And then you said

That you would see her to-night.

F.Pray mind your business, Tristram:Pay more attention to what is said to you,And less to what is not. Whom would you speak of?

F.Pray mind your business, Tristram:

Pay more attention to what is said to you,

And less to what is not. Whom would you speak of?

421T.I speak of no one, sir.

T.I speak of no one, sir.

F.No more do I.[Exit.

T.My master’s mad. If this is court life, I shall soon curse my birthday, like dutiful Job. ’Tis a madhouse. If there were any sense in anything that’s said or done, I’d swear my life that the Countess was in love with my master, and he might have her for the asking. Yet who can tell what she means, when every one plays at being in love with somebody? ’Tis a fashion with them as catching as the measles. My constitution holds out, thank heaven. (Sings.)

430The meads drink up the rain,The kine eat up the grass,And man feeds on the kine,And love on man, alas.So about and about! fa, la!

The meads drink up the rain,

The kine eat up the grass,

And man feeds on the kine,

And love on man, alas.

So about and about! fa, la!

And there’s a good light step to that tune, which Ippthink I can do as well as any I have seen. (Dances and sings.)

So about and about! fa, la!So about and about! fa, la! etc.

So about and about! fa, la!

So about and about! fa, la! etc.

Re-enter Flora, who watches him awhile and then laughs aloud.440Fl.Ha! ha!Well fancy, Tristram! dancing all alone!T.Lack of company constrains a man to be alone; and as for dancing, ’tis the original sin Adam was born with. ’Twas seeing him dance alone provoked providence to send him a partner. ’Tis now the inheritance of lambs and such innocents: and wert thou not too depraved by a court life, I would ask thee to dance with me.Fl.I depraved! I will dance with you.450T.Canst thou?Fl.Ha! ha! About and about, fa, la! (Dancing.)(They dance to each other and then together; in and out among the chairs.)O softly, Tristram, softly; I am out of breath.T.You are not so depraved as I thought. Here’s the coin I pay in. (Kissing her.)Fl.I don’t like you, Tristram. You take more liberties in a day than others would in a month.T.Ah! ah! Oh wala! wala! (Puts his finger to his head.)Fl.What is it? Are you giddy?T.No, no. My constitution—my system.460Fl.What?T.I’m going mad like the rest of them. I’ve caught it too.Fl.Don’t talk so; to frighten me, Tristram, like that. What do you mean?T.Well, we shall make a better pair than two I know.Fl.I never promised. And what would my lady say? And—oh! I forgot: she sent me to fetch you.T.My lady?—me?470Fl.Yes, you.T.She sent for me?Fl.No sooner was she come in the house, than as she sat looking on the silks, one of her fits took her, and I thought she would faint: when suddenly she got up, and bade me go out and seek for you. See, here she comes.T.What can she need with me? (Aside.) If she has got wind of me and Flora, it’s all up.Re-enter Diana.D.(to Fl.). I see you have found him, Flora.Fl.We were coming, my lady, as fast as we could.481D.Leave us alone.[Exit Flora.Good Tristram; will you serve me?T.Certainly, my lady. My lady has only to command.D.But in a matter where your duty might seem opposed to my interest.T.’Tis impossible, my lady, that my duties could be opposed to my lady’s.D.I think, Tristram, that you know a secret which concerns me.T.I assure your ladyship, upon my oath....D.Stay now. Take this purse....T.I thank your ladyship.D.To convince you of my goodwill. Now I have a suspicion: and whether or no you help me to come at the truth, I shall learn it. I will not have secrets kept from me in my court.T.Certainly not, my lady. But I pray your ladyship to speak plainly, for I am a simple man; and if I am to assist your ladyship, I must understand your502ladyship.D.You are a very sensible servant, Tristram. Tell me then, do you not know of some one in the court, who carries on a love-affair behind my back?T.(aside). It’s me.—No, my lady: I do not. It is impossible that any one should do such a thing.D.Is not your master in love?T.Oh!... my master? Certainly; not a doubt of it.D.So I thought. Now you must tell me, good Tristram, with whom he is in love.T.If that’s the question, my lady, you may take back the purse again. Take it; I thought it was not like my luck.D.You will not tell?T.I cannot tell what I do not know, my lady.D.You do not know?520T.I have not an inclination.D.Stay yet. You shall keep the purse if you will do your best to discover who she is.T.Your ladyship is very fair (pocketing), and I thank your ladyship for restoring my confidence.D.Then tell me first. You say you know that your master is in love.T.Certainly; as much or more than all the court.D.All the court!530T.Except your ladyship ... I beg your ladyship’s pardon.D.Except me?T.And me.D.And you?T.And old Sir Gregory, I may say.D.Please, Tristram, keep to the matter. By what signs know you that your master is in love?T.First because he talks nonsense aloud to himself; then he reads and writes so many letters.539D.Letters, you say!T.Certainly. Why, the moment that you left,He pulled one out and read it to himself.And now I am dead, he says, and now I live;And all the rest of it.D.I must know from whomThat letter came.T.And that much I can tell.I saw him write it to himself, last night,And put it in his pocket. To my knowledge,He has never sent it, and received no other,Nor spoke to a lady since;—when, on a sudden,He whips it out, and reads it to himself550As if ’twere newly come. Then, off he goes,Bragging, ’tis an appointment for to-night.D.To-night?T.Ay, so he said. But he can’t hideThe truth from me. The fact is this, my lady;He makes believe. He sees that everybodyIs full of this same love: since ’tis the fashionHe’d be ashamed, just for the lack of a lady,To come behind. But all the love he makesIs to himself.D.But if there were a lady,Think you she would be of the court?T.Why certainly.D.How so?560T.Because ’tis only in the courtThat such ridiculous foolery would pass.D.Stay. If he loved a lady of the court,I think I must have known her.T.Very true.Your ladyship is right. If ’twere a lady,She could not be of the court.D.Then we must lookTo find her in the town.T.’Tis very plain,That if she is not in the court, she is in the town.D.I have set you on the track. If you will serve me,Discover who this lady is: observe570Your master narrowly; above all to-nightFollow him where’er he goes, watch all he does;And bring me word to-morrow. That’s the serviceFor which, good Tristram, I will pay you well.But can I trust you?T.I never deceived any one, my lady: and if I can discover my master’s secret, your ladyship shall know it. I hold, like your ladyship, that love is amost contemptible disease, from which a good servant should seek to deliver his master. But I don’t think580we shall find any lady.D.No lady, no pay, Tristram; remember that:And, above all, be secret. Now, go your way,And tell your master I wish to see him here.T.I will, your ladyship. (Aside.) And as for secrets—if you knew my master’s as well as I know yours, you would not need to take me into your pay.[Exit.D.To-night: they meet to-night. It may be nowThat I am in time: maybe they have never met,At least not thus. It seems they have carried on590The intrigue, so far, by letter, and now by letterThey have made their assignation for to-night.At last I have found out something ... it shall not be ...Their first ... no, no: that I can hinder....I trust the clown: he could not frame a tale;And what I gave him won him. Yet no guessWho she should be. It tortures jealousyTo know so little: still where little is knownMay little be. But Frederick doth not feign.Nay if he feigned he would not hide it from me:600And loved he not another, he would beMore open to my meaning when I try himWith such unveilings of my inclinationAs make me blush alone. O perverse love,At once triumphant and inscrutable,Palpable and impotent. What if he knowsI love him, and yet loves me not, but lovesAnother, a rival? But if he knows not,And if he knew, might love—while there’s that hope,They shall not meet: so much I can ensure.610I must be cruel to thee, my unknown foe:Thou lookest to meet him, but he shall not come.I’ll make him play thee false ... what vantage elseThat he is my servant? I can send him offWhither I will. Against this assignationI’ll make an alibi. My plan is ready:I’ll send him away from Belflor. Here he comes,My enemy and my deity. If he quarrelWith my command he is guilty; a word will show.Re-enter Frederick, with some papers, ink, and pen.F.Your ladyship sent for me.D.What have you there?620F.Some papers for your ladyship to sign.D.Set them down on the chair.F.I have brought besidesThe settlement for Lady Laura’s marriage.D.Thank you: ’tis time I had it. I cannot nowAttend to business. I have a message, Frederick,To send to Milan: it demands despatch,And you must bear it to-night.F.To-night, my lady!D.To-night. Why not to-night?F.No reason at all.Except....D.Except what?F.Since your ladyshipWell knows the full devotion which I lend630To her affairs, I fear not to incurBlame of remissness, if I beg for onceTo be excused this service.D.(aside).Ah, he is hit.F.I’d travel to the corners of the globeTo serve your ladyship: and in a journeySo light as this, one that would never burdenThe most unwilling servant, I can begWithout reproach that you will find for onceAnother messenger.D.What then prevents you?F.Good cause enough; though ’tis not of a natureTo welcome question.D.There’s no person, Frederick,640That more regards your health, nor more regretsYour slightest ailing than I do. I fearYou have done me wrong concealing from my knowledgeThe true state of your health ... but if ’twas kindnessTo spare me anxiety....F.I assure, my lady....D.I have thought you looked of late careworn and pale.F.My health is excellent.D.I am glad to hear it.F.The expression of your good will reassures meYour ladyship will humour me.D.And I wouldMost gladly, were it a matter that admitted650A bearer of less trust. But as it standsThere’s nothing for it but your going to-night.You are out of sorts, Frederick: maybe the travellingIs just the change you need. Give me that pen,I’ll write the letter at once. (F. gives and D. writes.)If you fear coldYou can close up the coach. The journey is short:’Twill cheer you, and do you good.F.(aside).Curse on my fate.How can I escape? What devil hath now possessed herTo thwart me thus? And after all my serviceTo insist: so small a matter.659D.(giving).Here is the letter.Deliver it, please, with your own hand. Leave hereAt six o’clock to-night. Take Tristram with you.’Twill make me more at ease on your behalf,In case you are ill. (gathering up papers.)And whatsoe’er you doReturn by noon to-morrow: at which hourI need the answer. You will oblige me much.I wish you a pleasant journey.[Exit taking the papers.F.Is that a blindfold player? Who is it to,This letter? The Duke of Milan! Ha! can it be!Is that the mischief? He is discovered, and I670Suspected of complicity, and thusShe would expose us both?Re-enter Tristram.We are both undone.T.(half aside). Another letter! came this like the lastBorne on the winds?F.(aside).She hath recognised the Duke,No doubt. ’Twas natural. But why suspectThat I am in his secret? Till I am sure,I must still play my part.T.(aside).Secrets again:More mysteries.F.(to T.). Order me horses, Tristram,At six o’clock.T.What! is she off?F.Who off?T.The lady you should meet to-night.F.Plague on you!680A coach at six: and be yourself preparedTo accompany me.T.Where go we?Re-enter Ricardo.F.To the devil.Order the horses.T.Is our destinationA secret?F.No.T.Then who will ride postilion?F.Go, fool, at once.[Exit T.(To R.)Richard, you come in time:You are recognised. See here! The Countess bids meDeliver you this letter.R.(taking).To me! Diana!Why! ’tis addressed to Milan. ’Tis impossible.Nay, nay; she knows not. What hath made you think it?F.Because she bade me post this night to Milan690To give this in your hands. I pleaded sickness,Begged she would find some other messenger:Yet she refused. She would trust none but me.R.And why, man, if you thought I was suspected,Did you refuse? Another messengerMust have betrayed me.F.True. I was a foolNot to have thought of that. No, now I think of it,I knew not whither I was to be sentWhen I excused myself. The fact is, Richard,I thought I was discovered, and lost my head.700Laura and I had fixed to meet to-night.Our only hope is flight: misleading others,She has fallen into a trap: she is bound to marryThat fool St. Nicholas. I must persuade herTo run away. Unless we meet, the momentOf all our life is past.R.I see it: I see it.—And so she hath writ to me! Why should these words,Writ by her hand so set my heart adance?Is it beautiful? Nay,—but ’tis my name that leadsEvery direction of these little curves,710Which, by long intercourse of hand and brain,Were specialised to typify and betrayThe hiding spirit? There are such secrets hereAs dazzle lovers’eyes. She will be mine.She wrote me a letter once before in scorn,With studied terms of coldness: yet to meThat seemed—I treasure it still—a lovers’meetingOf our two names on the same conscious page,A daring intimacy, her own betrothal.Was I deceived boasting so crazed a title?What saith she now?720F.Ha! do not break the seal.R.Is it not mine?F.She yet might ask it back:And ’twould betray us if I had given it up.R.Yes: you shall keep it till you start, and thenGive it to me. You must discover of courseThat I am away from home, and leave the letter.Will not that do?F.This is my ruin, Richard:It means that I must be away to-night;And that prevents my meeting Laura; and thatLeaves the field to my rival.Re-enter St. Nicholas.R.Hush! see, he comes.N.That paper you are in doubt of, gentlemen,731Is, I opine, the poem which I have lost:—You picked it up in the garden?—a private trifleWhich I’d recover gladly.R.I am sorry, sir,’Tis no such lofty matter. A letter it isSealed and addressed, which takes our friend away.But I can say with truth, I’d rate myselfThe happiest man in the world, could I believeThat what I hold was fashioned ever so littleIn your romantic vein.N.You make me proud, sir.740Yet, you should know, I do not think my poemsAs good as others think them: they are but trifles.I wish that I could stay to explain my meaning;But I must seek my sonnet.[Exit.R.Your rival. O heavens!F.A fool that fortune favours.R.Not at all.Diana hath here some purpose we have not guessed.Come to my room: there we will read her letter;And if it shew no sign of my discovery,I’ll write it such an answer as it asks;Which, when you have, you may perform your service,750And see your mistress both. ’Tis but to startAt the set time, and turn about in the dark.F.Make a pretended journey?R.An expeditionSome ten miles out and back.F.I’ll do it, Richard.O, you were ever excellent.R.ArrangeSome practicable stages; and rememberTo keep an eye on the time.F.Trust me.R.And, hark!If some night you should make the real journey,Would Laura fly with you?F.Fly where?R.I’ll tell you.759I have planned the whole thing for you: I put my palaceAt your command; my servants shall receive you;The archbishop marry you, and all my friendsAttend your fête.F.You cannot mean it, Richard!R.By heaven, I do: but you must first persuadeYour lady to make sail.F.That would be easy,With such a port to run for. But how soon?It could not be to-night.R.I need one dayTo warn my people. Come now to my room,Where we will read this letter. Our successDepends on secrecy.F.True.R.Go within:770To avoid encounter I will follow alone.F.To your room?R.Yes.F.Which suite are you in?R.They call itOne of the Grecian muses.F.Yes, but which?R.I quite forget. At the end of the corridor,Beyond the tower.F.I know. You’ll find me there.[Exit.R.To get this Frederick married, more concerns meThan anything else. ’Tis plain Diana loves him:And till he’s gone, ’tis folly to besiegeHer garrisoned heart. I must engage my skill,Like a wise general, to draw off the foe.780That I can do. ’Tis a most blessed chanceThat he is so well disposed, and hath a ladyReady to run off with him. The very thingI plot to save myself, most helps my friend.[Exit.Re-enter Tristram with a paper.T.I have found a prize: just exactly what I wanted: one of my master’s love-letters, or a piece of one,—that’s the third to-day,—lying on the walk. It was notthere when I went to order the horses, else I must have trod on it; but when I came back, it lay in the middle of the path, as if dropped from the skies. Reveal what it may, it goes to the Countess to-morrow; and it should stand me in something handsome. Unsealed, unfolded even, for any to read: and no name. Poetry like my master’s. There’s no harm in my reading, even though I should not understand.(Reads.)—‘Master of mine!'—Ha! ’tis the lady.‘Master of mine, remember for pity,What sobs of fluting lips, wan with dismay,’Poor thing!‘And malison of death, my soulless clay,800Panteth in thine unspeak’ble purgat’ry.’Unspeak’ble!—that is unspeakable; andpurgatree!—why the big O hath fallen out. I never loved this purgatory, and quarrel not at any shortening of it.—‘Enchained long whilom.’—Mysteries and crimes! chained is she? Where can he have chained her? and how, if she be chained, can she have cast this on the path? unless she threw it from the window....‘Enchained long whilom, was I fain to flee.’Just so! But is she fled or no? I wish she wrote clearer sense.(Re-enter St. Nicholas behind.)‘Enchained long whilom was I fain to flee;But thou, with wildered phantom disarray,Nightly disguised in the blue garb of day,815Besetdst the sleep-gates of my melanch’ly.’

Re-enter Flora, who watches him awhile and then laughs aloud.

Fl.Ha! ha!Well fancy, Tristram! dancing all alone!

T.Lack of company constrains a man to be alone; and as for dancing, ’tis the original sin Adam was born with. ’Twas seeing him dance alone provoked providence to send him a partner. ’Tis now the inheritance of lambs and such innocents: and wert thou not too depraved by a court life, I would ask thee to dance with me.

Fl.I depraved! I will dance with you.

T.Canst thou?

Fl.Ha! ha! About and about, fa, la! (Dancing.)

(They dance to each other and then together; in and out among the chairs.)

O softly, Tristram, softly; I am out of breath.

T.You are not so depraved as I thought. Here’s the coin I pay in. (Kissing her.)

Fl.I don’t like you, Tristram. You take more liberties in a day than others would in a month.

T.Ah! ah! Oh wala! wala! (Puts his finger to his head.)

Fl.What is it? Are you giddy?

T.No, no. My constitution—my system.

Fl.What?

T.I’m going mad like the rest of them. I’ve caught it too.

Fl.Don’t talk so; to frighten me, Tristram, like that. What do you mean?

T.Well, we shall make a better pair than two I know.

Fl.I never promised. And what would my lady say? And—oh! I forgot: she sent me to fetch you.

T.My lady?—me?

Fl.Yes, you.

T.She sent for me?

Fl.No sooner was she come in the house, than as she sat looking on the silks, one of her fits took her, and I thought she would faint: when suddenly she got up, and bade me go out and seek for you. See, here she comes.

T.What can she need with me? (Aside.) If she has got wind of me and Flora, it’s all up.

Re-enter Diana.

D.(to Fl.). I see you have found him, Flora.

Fl.We were coming, my lady, as fast as we could.

D.Leave us alone.[Exit Flora.Good Tristram; will you serve me?

T.Certainly, my lady. My lady has only to command.

D.But in a matter where your duty might seem opposed to my interest.

T.’Tis impossible, my lady, that my duties could be opposed to my lady’s.

D.I think, Tristram, that you know a secret which concerns me.

T.I assure your ladyship, upon my oath....

D.Stay now. Take this purse....

T.I thank your ladyship.

D.To convince you of my goodwill. Now I have a suspicion: and whether or no you help me to come at the truth, I shall learn it. I will not have secrets kept from me in my court.

T.Certainly not, my lady. But I pray your ladyship to speak plainly, for I am a simple man; and if I am to assist your ladyship, I must understand your502ladyship.

D.You are a very sensible servant, Tristram. Tell me then, do you not know of some one in the court, who carries on a love-affair behind my back?

T.(aside). It’s me.—No, my lady: I do not. It is impossible that any one should do such a thing.

D.Is not your master in love?

T.Oh!... my master? Certainly; not a doubt of it.

D.So I thought. Now you must tell me, good Tristram, with whom he is in love.

T.If that’s the question, my lady, you may take back the purse again. Take it; I thought it was not like my luck.

D.You will not tell?

T.I cannot tell what I do not know, my lady.

D.You do not know?

T.I have not an inclination.

D.Stay yet. You shall keep the purse if you will do your best to discover who she is.

T.Your ladyship is very fair (pocketing), and I thank your ladyship for restoring my confidence.

D.Then tell me first. You say you know that your master is in love.

T.Certainly; as much or more than all the court.

D.All the court!

T.Except your ladyship ... I beg your ladyship’s pardon.

D.Except me?

T.And me.

D.And you?

T.And old Sir Gregory, I may say.

D.Please, Tristram, keep to the matter. By what signs know you that your master is in love?

T.First because he talks nonsense aloud to himself; then he reads and writes so many letters.

539D.Letters, you say!

D.Letters, you say!

T.Certainly. Why, the moment that you left,He pulled one out and read it to himself.And now I am dead, he says, and now I live;And all the rest of it.

T.Certainly. Why, the moment that you left,

He pulled one out and read it to himself.

And now I am dead, he says, and now I live;

And all the rest of it.

D.I must know from whomThat letter came.

D.I must know from whom

That letter came.

T.And that much I can tell.I saw him write it to himself, last night,And put it in his pocket. To my knowledge,He has never sent it, and received no other,Nor spoke to a lady since;—when, on a sudden,He whips it out, and reads it to himself550As if ’twere newly come. Then, off he goes,Bragging, ’tis an appointment for to-night.

T.And that much I can tell.

I saw him write it to himself, last night,

And put it in his pocket. To my knowledge,

He has never sent it, and received no other,

Nor spoke to a lady since;—when, on a sudden,

He whips it out, and reads it to himself

As if ’twere newly come. Then, off he goes,

Bragging, ’tis an appointment for to-night.

D.To-night?

T.Ay, so he said. But he can’t hideThe truth from me. The fact is this, my lady;He makes believe. He sees that everybodyIs full of this same love: since ’tis the fashionHe’d be ashamed, just for the lack of a lady,To come behind. But all the love he makesIs to himself.

T.Ay, so he said. But he can’t hide

The truth from me. The fact is this, my lady;

He makes believe. He sees that everybody

Is full of this same love: since ’tis the fashion

He’d be ashamed, just for the lack of a lady,

To come behind. But all the love he makes

Is to himself.

D.But if there were a lady,Think you she would be of the court?

D.But if there were a lady,

Think you she would be of the court?

T.Why certainly.

D.How so?

560T.Because ’tis only in the courtThat such ridiculous foolery would pass.

T.Because ’tis only in the court

That such ridiculous foolery would pass.

D.Stay. If he loved a lady of the court,I think I must have known her.

D.Stay. If he loved a lady of the court,

I think I must have known her.

T.Very true.Your ladyship is right. If ’twere a lady,She could not be of the court.

T.Very true.

Your ladyship is right. If ’twere a lady,

She could not be of the court.

D.Then we must lookTo find her in the town.

D.Then we must look

To find her in the town.

T.’Tis very plain,That if she is not in the court, she is in the town.

T.’Tis very plain,

That if she is not in the court, she is in the town.

D.I have set you on the track. If you will serve me,Discover who this lady is: observe570Your master narrowly; above all to-nightFollow him where’er he goes, watch all he does;And bring me word to-morrow. That’s the serviceFor which, good Tristram, I will pay you well.But can I trust you?

D.I have set you on the track. If you will serve me,

Discover who this lady is: observe

Your master narrowly; above all to-night

Follow him where’er he goes, watch all he does;

And bring me word to-morrow. That’s the service

For which, good Tristram, I will pay you well.

But can I trust you?

T.I never deceived any one, my lady: and if I can discover my master’s secret, your ladyship shall know it. I hold, like your ladyship, that love is amost contemptible disease, from which a good servant should seek to deliver his master. But I don’t think580we shall find any lady.

D.No lady, no pay, Tristram; remember that:And, above all, be secret. Now, go your way,And tell your master I wish to see him here.

D.No lady, no pay, Tristram; remember that:

And, above all, be secret. Now, go your way,

And tell your master I wish to see him here.

T.I will, your ladyship. (Aside.) And as for secrets—if you knew my master’s as well as I know yours, you would not need to take me into your pay.

[Exit.

D.To-night: they meet to-night. It may be nowThat I am in time: maybe they have never met,At least not thus. It seems they have carried on590The intrigue, so far, by letter, and now by letterThey have made their assignation for to-night.At last I have found out something ... it shall not be ...Their first ... no, no: that I can hinder....I trust the clown: he could not frame a tale;And what I gave him won him. Yet no guessWho she should be. It tortures jealousyTo know so little: still where little is knownMay little be. But Frederick doth not feign.Nay if he feigned he would not hide it from me:600And loved he not another, he would beMore open to my meaning when I try himWith such unveilings of my inclinationAs make me blush alone. O perverse love,At once triumphant and inscrutable,Palpable and impotent. What if he knowsI love him, and yet loves me not, but lovesAnother, a rival? But if he knows not,And if he knew, might love—while there’s that hope,They shall not meet: so much I can ensure.610I must be cruel to thee, my unknown foe:Thou lookest to meet him, but he shall not come.I’ll make him play thee false ... what vantage elseThat he is my servant? I can send him offWhither I will. Against this assignationI’ll make an alibi. My plan is ready:I’ll send him away from Belflor. Here he comes,My enemy and my deity. If he quarrelWith my command he is guilty; a word will show.

D.To-night: they meet to-night. It may be now

That I am in time: maybe they have never met,

At least not thus. It seems they have carried on

The intrigue, so far, by letter, and now by letter

They have made their assignation for to-night.

At last I have found out something ... it shall not be ...

Their first ... no, no: that I can hinder....

I trust the clown: he could not frame a tale;

And what I gave him won him. Yet no guess

Who she should be. It tortures jealousy

To know so little: still where little is known

May little be. But Frederick doth not feign.

Nay if he feigned he would not hide it from me:

And loved he not another, he would be

More open to my meaning when I try him

With such unveilings of my inclination

As make me blush alone. O perverse love,

At once triumphant and inscrutable,

Palpable and impotent. What if he knows

I love him, and yet loves me not, but loves

Another, a rival? But if he knows not,

And if he knew, might love—while there’s that hope,

They shall not meet: so much I can ensure.

I must be cruel to thee, my unknown foe:

Thou lookest to meet him, but he shall not come.

I’ll make him play thee false ... what vantage else

That he is my servant? I can send him off

Whither I will. Against this assignation

I’ll make an alibi. My plan is ready:

I’ll send him away from Belflor. Here he comes,

My enemy and my deity. If he quarrel

With my command he is guilty; a word will show.

Re-enter Frederick, with some papers, ink, and pen.

F.Your ladyship sent for me.

D.What have you there?

620F.Some papers for your ladyship to sign.

F.Some papers for your ladyship to sign.

D.Set them down on the chair.

F.I have brought besidesThe settlement for Lady Laura’s marriage.

F.I have brought besides

The settlement for Lady Laura’s marriage.

D.Thank you: ’tis time I had it. I cannot nowAttend to business. I have a message, Frederick,To send to Milan: it demands despatch,And you must bear it to-night.

D.Thank you: ’tis time I had it. I cannot now

Attend to business. I have a message, Frederick,

To send to Milan: it demands despatch,

And you must bear it to-night.

F.To-night, my lady!

D.To-night. Why not to-night?

F.No reason at all.Except....

F.No reason at all.

Except....

D.Except what?

F.Since your ladyshipWell knows the full devotion which I lend630To her affairs, I fear not to incurBlame of remissness, if I beg for onceTo be excused this service.

F.Since your ladyship

Well knows the full devotion which I lend

To her affairs, I fear not to incur

Blame of remissness, if I beg for once

To be excused this service.

D.(aside).Ah, he is hit.

F.I’d travel to the corners of the globeTo serve your ladyship: and in a journeySo light as this, one that would never burdenThe most unwilling servant, I can begWithout reproach that you will find for onceAnother messenger.

F.I’d travel to the corners of the globe

To serve your ladyship: and in a journey

So light as this, one that would never burden

The most unwilling servant, I can beg

Without reproach that you will find for once

Another messenger.

D.What then prevents you?

F.Good cause enough; though ’tis not of a natureTo welcome question.

F.Good cause enough; though ’tis not of a nature

To welcome question.

D.There’s no person, Frederick,640That more regards your health, nor more regretsYour slightest ailing than I do. I fearYou have done me wrong concealing from my knowledgeThe true state of your health ... but if ’twas kindnessTo spare me anxiety....

D.There’s no person, Frederick,

That more regards your health, nor more regrets

Your slightest ailing than I do. I fear

You have done me wrong concealing from my knowledge

The true state of your health ... but if ’twas kindness

To spare me anxiety....

F.I assure, my lady....

D.I have thought you looked of late careworn and pale.

F.My health is excellent.

D.I am glad to hear it.

F.The expression of your good will reassures meYour ladyship will humour me.

F.The expression of your good will reassures me

Your ladyship will humour me.

D.And I wouldMost gladly, were it a matter that admitted650A bearer of less trust. But as it standsThere’s nothing for it but your going to-night.You are out of sorts, Frederick: maybe the travellingIs just the change you need. Give me that pen,I’ll write the letter at once. (F. gives and D. writes.)If you fear coldYou can close up the coach. The journey is short:’Twill cheer you, and do you good.

D.And I would

Most gladly, were it a matter that admitted

A bearer of less trust. But as it stands

There’s nothing for it but your going to-night.

You are out of sorts, Frederick: maybe the travelling

Is just the change you need. Give me that pen,

I’ll write the letter at once. (F. gives and D. writes.)

If you fear cold

You can close up the coach. The journey is short:

’Twill cheer you, and do you good.

F.(aside).Curse on my fate.How can I escape? What devil hath now possessed herTo thwart me thus? And after all my serviceTo insist: so small a matter.

F.(aside).Curse on my fate.

How can I escape? What devil hath now possessed her

To thwart me thus? And after all my service

To insist: so small a matter.

659D.(giving).Here is the letter.Deliver it, please, with your own hand. Leave hereAt six o’clock to-night. Take Tristram with you.’Twill make me more at ease on your behalf,In case you are ill. (gathering up papers.)And whatsoe’er you doReturn by noon to-morrow: at which hourI need the answer. You will oblige me much.I wish you a pleasant journey.[Exit taking the papers.

D.(giving).Here is the letter.

Deliver it, please, with your own hand. Leave here

At six o’clock to-night. Take Tristram with you.

’Twill make me more at ease on your behalf,

In case you are ill. (gathering up papers.)

And whatsoe’er you do

Return by noon to-morrow: at which hour

I need the answer. You will oblige me much.

I wish you a pleasant journey.[Exit taking the papers.

F.Is that a blindfold player? Who is it to,This letter? The Duke of Milan! Ha! can it be!Is that the mischief? He is discovered, and I670Suspected of complicity, and thusShe would expose us both?

F.Is that a blindfold player? Who is it to,

This letter? The Duke of Milan! Ha! can it be!

Is that the mischief? He is discovered, and I

Suspected of complicity, and thus

She would expose us both?

Re-enter Tristram.

We are both undone.

T.(half aside). Another letter! came this like the lastBorne on the winds?

T.(half aside). Another letter! came this like the last

Borne on the winds?

F.(aside).She hath recognised the Duke,No doubt. ’Twas natural. But why suspectThat I am in his secret? Till I am sure,I must still play my part.

F.(aside).She hath recognised the Duke,

No doubt. ’Twas natural. But why suspect

That I am in his secret? Till I am sure,

I must still play my part.

T.(aside).Secrets again:More mysteries.

T.(aside).Secrets again:

More mysteries.

F.(to T.). Order me horses, Tristram,At six o’clock.

F.(to T.). Order me horses, Tristram,

At six o’clock.

T.What! is she off?

F.Who off?

T.The lady you should meet to-night.

F.Plague on you!680A coach at six: and be yourself preparedTo accompany me.

F.Plague on you!

A coach at six: and be yourself prepared

To accompany me.

T.Where go we?

Re-enter Ricardo.

F.To the devil.Order the horses.

F.To the devil.

Order the horses.

T.Is our destinationA secret?

T.Is our destination

A secret?

F.No.

T.Then who will ride postilion?

F.Go, fool, at once.[Exit T.(To R.)Richard, you come in time:You are recognised. See here! The Countess bids meDeliver you this letter.

F.Go, fool, at once.[Exit T.

(To R.)Richard, you come in time:

You are recognised. See here! The Countess bids me

Deliver you this letter.

R.(taking).To me! Diana!Why! ’tis addressed to Milan. ’Tis impossible.Nay, nay; she knows not. What hath made you think it?

R.(taking).To me! Diana!

Why! ’tis addressed to Milan. ’Tis impossible.

Nay, nay; she knows not. What hath made you think it?

F.Because she bade me post this night to Milan690To give this in your hands. I pleaded sickness,Begged she would find some other messenger:Yet she refused. She would trust none but me.

F.Because she bade me post this night to Milan

To give this in your hands. I pleaded sickness,

Begged she would find some other messenger:

Yet she refused. She would trust none but me.

R.And why, man, if you thought I was suspected,Did you refuse? Another messengerMust have betrayed me.

R.And why, man, if you thought I was suspected,

Did you refuse? Another messenger

Must have betrayed me.

F.True. I was a foolNot to have thought of that. No, now I think of it,I knew not whither I was to be sentWhen I excused myself. The fact is, Richard,I thought I was discovered, and lost my head.700Laura and I had fixed to meet to-night.Our only hope is flight: misleading others,She has fallen into a trap: she is bound to marryThat fool St. Nicholas. I must persuade herTo run away. Unless we meet, the momentOf all our life is past.

F.True. I was a fool

Not to have thought of that. No, now I think of it,

I knew not whither I was to be sent

When I excused myself. The fact is, Richard,

I thought I was discovered, and lost my head.

Laura and I had fixed to meet to-night.

Our only hope is flight: misleading others,

She has fallen into a trap: she is bound to marry

That fool St. Nicholas. I must persuade her

To run away. Unless we meet, the moment

Of all our life is past.

R.I see it: I see it.—And so she hath writ to me! Why should these words,Writ by her hand so set my heart adance?Is it beautiful? Nay,—but ’tis my name that leadsEvery direction of these little curves,710Which, by long intercourse of hand and brain,Were specialised to typify and betrayThe hiding spirit? There are such secrets hereAs dazzle lovers’eyes. She will be mine.She wrote me a letter once before in scorn,With studied terms of coldness: yet to meThat seemed—I treasure it still—a lovers’meetingOf our two names on the same conscious page,A daring intimacy, her own betrothal.Was I deceived boasting so crazed a title?What saith she now?

R.I see it: I see it.—

And so she hath writ to me! Why should these words,

Writ by her hand so set my heart adance?

Is it beautiful? Nay,—but ’tis my name that leads

Every direction of these little curves,

Which, by long intercourse of hand and brain,

Were specialised to typify and betray

The hiding spirit? There are such secrets here

As dazzle lovers’eyes. She will be mine.

She wrote me a letter once before in scorn,

With studied terms of coldness: yet to me

That seemed—I treasure it still—a lovers’meeting

Of our two names on the same conscious page,

A daring intimacy, her own betrothal.

Was I deceived boasting so crazed a title?

What saith she now?

720F.Ha! do not break the seal.

F.Ha! do not break the seal.

R.Is it not mine?

F.She yet might ask it back:And ’twould betray us if I had given it up.

F.She yet might ask it back:

And ’twould betray us if I had given it up.

R.Yes: you shall keep it till you start, and thenGive it to me. You must discover of courseThat I am away from home, and leave the letter.Will not that do?

R.Yes: you shall keep it till you start, and then

Give it to me. You must discover of course

That I am away from home, and leave the letter.

Will not that do?

F.This is my ruin, Richard:It means that I must be away to-night;And that prevents my meeting Laura; and thatLeaves the field to my rival.

F.This is my ruin, Richard:

It means that I must be away to-night;

And that prevents my meeting Laura; and that

Leaves the field to my rival.

Re-enter St. Nicholas.

R.Hush! see, he comes.

N.That paper you are in doubt of, gentlemen,731Is, I opine, the poem which I have lost:—You picked it up in the garden?—a private trifleWhich I’d recover gladly.

N.That paper you are in doubt of, gentlemen,

Is, I opine, the poem which I have lost:—

You picked it up in the garden?—a private trifle

Which I’d recover gladly.

R.I am sorry, sir,’Tis no such lofty matter. A letter it isSealed and addressed, which takes our friend away.But I can say with truth, I’d rate myselfThe happiest man in the world, could I believeThat what I hold was fashioned ever so littleIn your romantic vein.

R.I am sorry, sir,

’Tis no such lofty matter. A letter it is

Sealed and addressed, which takes our friend away.

But I can say with truth, I’d rate myself

The happiest man in the world, could I believe

That what I hold was fashioned ever so little

In your romantic vein.

N.You make me proud, sir.740Yet, you should know, I do not think my poemsAs good as others think them: they are but trifles.I wish that I could stay to explain my meaning;But I must seek my sonnet.[Exit.

N.You make me proud, sir.

Yet, you should know, I do not think my poems

As good as others think them: they are but trifles.

I wish that I could stay to explain my meaning;

But I must seek my sonnet.[Exit.

R.Your rival. O heavens!

F.A fool that fortune favours.

R.Not at all.Diana hath here some purpose we have not guessed.Come to my room: there we will read her letter;And if it shew no sign of my discovery,I’ll write it such an answer as it asks;Which, when you have, you may perform your service,750And see your mistress both. ’Tis but to startAt the set time, and turn about in the dark.

R.Not at all.

Diana hath here some purpose we have not guessed.

Come to my room: there we will read her letter;

And if it shew no sign of my discovery,

I’ll write it such an answer as it asks;

Which, when you have, you may perform your service,

And see your mistress both. ’Tis but to start

At the set time, and turn about in the dark.

F.Make a pretended journey?

R.An expeditionSome ten miles out and back.

R.An expedition

Some ten miles out and back.

F.I’ll do it, Richard.O, you were ever excellent.

F.I’ll do it, Richard.

O, you were ever excellent.

R.ArrangeSome practicable stages; and rememberTo keep an eye on the time.

R.Arrange

Some practicable stages; and remember

To keep an eye on the time.

F.Trust me.

R.And, hark!If some night you should make the real journey,Would Laura fly with you?

R.And, hark!

If some night you should make the real journey,

Would Laura fly with you?

F.Fly where?

R.I’ll tell you.759I have planned the whole thing for you: I put my palaceAt your command; my servants shall receive you;The archbishop marry you, and all my friendsAttend your fête.

R.I’ll tell you.

I have planned the whole thing for you: I put my palace

At your command; my servants shall receive you;

The archbishop marry you, and all my friends

Attend your fête.

F.You cannot mean it, Richard!

R.By heaven, I do: but you must first persuadeYour lady to make sail.

R.By heaven, I do: but you must first persuade

Your lady to make sail.

F.That would be easy,With such a port to run for. But how soon?It could not be to-night.

F.That would be easy,

With such a port to run for. But how soon?

It could not be to-night.

R.I need one dayTo warn my people. Come now to my room,Where we will read this letter. Our successDepends on secrecy.

R.I need one day

To warn my people. Come now to my room,

Where we will read this letter. Our success

Depends on secrecy.

F.True.

R.Go within:770To avoid encounter I will follow alone.

R.Go within:

To avoid encounter I will follow alone.

F.To your room?

R.Yes.

F.Which suite are you in?

R.They call itOne of the Grecian muses.

R.They call it

One of the Grecian muses.

F.Yes, but which?

R.I quite forget. At the end of the corridor,Beyond the tower.

R.I quite forget. At the end of the corridor,

Beyond the tower.

F.I know. You’ll find me there.[Exit.

R.To get this Frederick married, more concerns meThan anything else. ’Tis plain Diana loves him:And till he’s gone, ’tis folly to besiegeHer garrisoned heart. I must engage my skill,Like a wise general, to draw off the foe.780That I can do. ’Tis a most blessed chanceThat he is so well disposed, and hath a ladyReady to run off with him. The very thingI plot to save myself, most helps my friend.[Exit.

R.To get this Frederick married, more concerns me

Than anything else. ’Tis plain Diana loves him:

And till he’s gone, ’tis folly to besiege

Her garrisoned heart. I must engage my skill,

Like a wise general, to draw off the foe.

That I can do. ’Tis a most blessed chance

That he is so well disposed, and hath a lady

Ready to run off with him. The very thing

I plot to save myself, most helps my friend.[Exit.

Re-enter Tristram with a paper.

T.I have found a prize: just exactly what I wanted: one of my master’s love-letters, or a piece of one,—that’s the third to-day,—lying on the walk. It was notthere when I went to order the horses, else I must have trod on it; but when I came back, it lay in the middle of the path, as if dropped from the skies. Reveal what it may, it goes to the Countess to-morrow; and it should stand me in something handsome. Unsealed, unfolded even, for any to read: and no name. Poetry like my master’s. There’s no harm in my reading, even though I should not understand.(Reads.)—‘Master of mine!'—Ha! ’tis the lady.

(Reads.)—‘Master of mine!'—Ha! ’tis the lady.

‘Master of mine, remember for pity,What sobs of fluting lips, wan with dismay,’

‘Master of mine, remember for pity,

What sobs of fluting lips, wan with dismay,’

Poor thing!

‘And malison of death, my soulless clay,800Panteth in thine unspeak’ble purgat’ry.’

‘And malison of death, my soulless clay,

Panteth in thine unspeak’ble purgat’ry.’

Unspeak’ble!—that is unspeakable; andpurgatree!—why the big O hath fallen out. I never loved this purgatory, and quarrel not at any shortening of it.—‘Enchained long whilom.’—Mysteries and crimes! chained is she? Where can he have chained her? and how, if she be chained, can she have cast this on the path? unless she threw it from the window....

‘Enchained long whilom, was I fain to flee.’

Just so! But is she fled or no? I wish she wrote clearer sense.(Re-enter St. Nicholas behind.)

Just so! But is she fled or no? I wish she wrote clearer sense.

(Re-enter St. Nicholas behind.)

‘Enchained long whilom was I fain to flee;

But thou, with wildered phantom disarray,

Nightly disguised in the blue garb of day,

Besetdst the sleep-gates of my melanch’ly.’

Hem!N.(coming forward). Tristram, where found you that? it was not intended for your reading.T.So I guess, sir; but if letters be purposely thrown open on the ground, they may be read by those for whom they were not intended.N.Give it to me. ’Tis mine.T.I see no sign of that, sir, unless you will say that everything which the ladies let fall belongs to you.N.No impertinence, man: give it me at once.T.Nay; I have my duty. This belongs to my master. I shall guard it for him.N.I tell you ’tis mine.T.So you said of Lady Laura’s glove.N.That has nothing to do with it. Give me the paper.T.Not till ’tis proved to be yours, sir: which can never be.N.I tell you, Tristram, that I wrote it myself.T.We shall soon see that, sir. This is writ by alady; who is prisoned or chained somewhere in the court. And she says;—well, what she says I cannot tell; but my master thinks she has run away, and has bade me order the horses to be after her.N.What ridiculous stuff you make of it, Tristram. ’Tis addressed to Love: you do not understand.T.Yes: it is love, and court love too: I understand that well enough, and I understand that ’tis writ to a man; therefore ’tis pikestaff-plain that ’tis writ by a woman: therefore it half follows that you did not write it: and therefore it belongs to my master.N.How therefore belongs it to your master?T.Why, whose else should it be? His letters come from the four quarters, no one knows whither; just where this came from.N.Nonsense, Tristram: I assure you ’tis mine.T.Think not to owl me thus.N.Man! I swear that I composed that poem myself. Had you any culture you would distinguish it from the poor style of a woman. It has fallen from my pocket by accident: and if you will not give it me, I must take it from you.T.Hands off, sir, now. I can’t think why you should try to get what belongs to another. You are mistaken. 'Master of mine’it says—and would a man write thus? (begins to read).

Hem!

N.(coming forward). Tristram, where found you that? it was not intended for your reading.

T.So I guess, sir; but if letters be purposely thrown open on the ground, they may be read by those for whom they were not intended.

N.Give it to me. ’Tis mine.

T.I see no sign of that, sir, unless you will say that everything which the ladies let fall belongs to you.

N.No impertinence, man: give it me at once.

T.Nay; I have my duty. This belongs to my master. I shall guard it for him.

N.I tell you ’tis mine.

T.So you said of Lady Laura’s glove.

N.That has nothing to do with it. Give me the paper.

T.Not till ’tis proved to be yours, sir: which can never be.

N.I tell you, Tristram, that I wrote it myself.

T.We shall soon see that, sir. This is writ by alady; who is prisoned or chained somewhere in the court. And she says;—well, what she says I cannot tell; but my master thinks she has run away, and has bade me order the horses to be after her.

N.What ridiculous stuff you make of it, Tristram. ’Tis addressed to Love: you do not understand.

T.Yes: it is love, and court love too: I understand that well enough, and I understand that ’tis writ to a man; therefore ’tis pikestaff-plain that ’tis writ by a woman: therefore it half follows that you did not write it: and therefore it belongs to my master.

N.How therefore belongs it to your master?

T.Why, whose else should it be? His letters come from the four quarters, no one knows whither; just where this came from.

N.Nonsense, Tristram: I assure you ’tis mine.

T.Think not to owl me thus.

N.Man! I swear that I composed that poem myself. Had you any culture you would distinguish it from the poor style of a woman. It has fallen from my pocket by accident: and if you will not give it me, I must take it from you.

T.Hands off, sir, now. I can’t think why you should try to get what belongs to another. You are mistaken. 'Master of mine’it says—and would a man write thus? (begins to read).

N.Death! stop mine ears! That I should hear my verseAgain profaned by thee, thou baseborn clown.

N.Death! stop mine ears! That I should hear my verse

Again profaned by thee, thou baseborn clown.

T.I read correctly, sir. If you find fault with my reading, ’tis the strangeness of the matter. I have good reasons for not parting with this; and I am not a baseborn clown.N.Worse; thou art a thief.T.Thief call you me? Now were the verses ten thousand times yours, sir, I’d never give 'em you. I defy you!

T.I read correctly, sir. If you find fault with my reading, ’tis the strangeness of the matter. I have good reasons for not parting with this; and I am not a baseborn clown.

N.Worse; thou art a thief.

T.Thief call you me? Now were the verses ten thousand times yours, sir, I’d never give 'em you. I defy you!

N.Thou to defy me, slave; paid by the monthTo render menial offices to one875Himself the annual hireling of the ladyWhom I shall call my sister! O thou fool,If reason cannot work into thy skull'Cause of its wooden thickness, I’ll find meansTo punish thee.

N.Thou to defy me, slave; paid by the month

To render menial offices to one

Himself the annual hireling of the lady

Whom I shall call my sister! O thou fool,

If reason cannot work into thy skull

'Cause of its wooden thickness, I’ll find means

To punish thee.

T.Good day, sir. Stand you here and rail. I must be off with my master after this lady. But I shall not forget your language to me, sir: be this paper what it will. [Exit.N.Tristram, Tristram, I beg of you! my sonnet! my sonnet!

T.Good day, sir. Stand you here and rail. I must be off with my master after this lady. But I shall not forget your language to me, sir: be this paper what it will. [Exit.

N.Tristram, Tristram, I beg of you! my sonnet! my sonnet!

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