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_Wal_. He is. He lies in fetters.
_Julia_. Hard!
Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on.
_Wal_. Some one unrivets them!
_Julia_. The princess? 'Tis!
_Wal_. It is another page.
_Julia_. It is herself!
_Wal_. Her skin is fair; and his is berry-brown.
His locks are raven black; and hers are gold.
_Julia_. Love's cunning of disguises! spite of locks, Skin, vesture,--it is she, and only she What will not constant woman do for love That's loved with constancy! Set her the task, Virtue approving, that will baffle her!
O'ertax her stooping, patience, courage, wit!
My life upon it, 'tis the princess' self, Transformed into a page!
_Wal_. The dungeon door Stands open, and you see beyond--
_Julia_. Her father!
_Wal_. No; a steed.
_Julia_. [Starting up.] O, welcome steed, My heart bounds at the thought of thee! Thou comest To bear the page from bonds to liberty.
What else?
_Wal_. [Rising.] The story's told.
_Julia_. Too briefly told; O happy princess, that had wealth and state To lay them down for love! Whose constant love Appearances approved, not falsified!
A winner in thy loss, as well as gain.
_Wal_. Weighs love so much?
_Julia_. What would you weigh 'gainst love That's true? Tell me with what you'd turn the scale?
Yea, make the index waver? Wealth? A feather!
Rank? Tinsel against bullion in the balance!
The love of kindred? That to set 'gainst love!
Friends.h.i.+p comes nearest to't; but put it in, Friends.h.i.+p will kick the beam!--weigh nothing 'gainst it!
Weigh love against the world!
Yet are they happy that have naught to say to it.
_Wal_. And such a one art thou. Who wisely wed, Wed happily. The love thou speak'st of, A flower is only, that its season has, Which they must look to see the withering of, Who pleasure in its budding and its bloom!
But wisdom is the constant evergreen Which lives the whole year through! Be that, your flower!
[Enter a Servant.]
Well?
_Serv_. My lord's secretary is without.
He brings a letter for her ladys.h.i.+p, And craves admittance to her.
_Wal_. Show him in.
_Julia_. No.
_Wal_. Thou must see him. To show slight to him, Were slighting him that sent him. Show him in!
[Servant goes out.]
Some errand proper for thy private ear, Besides the letter he may bring. What mean This paleness and this trembling? Mark me, Julia!
If, from these nuptials, which thyself invited-- Which at thy seeking came--thou wouldst be freed, Thou hast gone too far! Receding were disgrace, Sooner than see thee suffer which, the hearts That love thee most would wish thee dead! Reflect!
Take thought! collect thyself! With dignity Receive thy bridegroom's messenger! for sure As dawns to-morrow's sun, to-morrow night Sees thee a wedded bride!
[Goes out.]
_Julia_. [Alone.] A wedded bride!
Is it a dream? Is it a phantasm? 'Tis Too horrible for reality! for aught else Too palpable! O would it were a dream!
How would I bless the sun that waked me from it!
I peris.h.!.+ Like some desperate mariner Impatient of a strange and hostile land, Who rashly hoists his sail and puts to sea, And being fast on reefs and quicksands borne, Essays in vain once more to make the land, Whence wind and current drive him; I'm wrecked By mine own act! What! no escape? no hope?
None! I must e'en abide these hated nuptials!
Hated!--Ah! own it, and then curse thyself!
That madest the bane thou loathest--for the love Thou bear'st to one who never can be thine!
Yes--love! Deceive thyself no longer. False To say 'tis pity for his fall--respect, Engendered by a hollow world's disdain, Which hoots whom fickle fortune cheers no more!
'Tis none of these; 'tis love--and if not love, Why then idolatry! Ay, that's the name To speak the broadest, deepest, strongest pa.s.sion, That ever woman's heart was borne away by!
He comes! Thou'dst play the lady,--play it now!
[Enter a Servant, conducting CLIFFORD, plainly attired as the EARL OF ROCHDALE'S Secretary.]
Servant. His lords.h.i.+p's secretary.
[Servant goes out.]
_Julia_. Speaks he not? Or does he wait for orders to unfold His business? Stopped his business till I spoke, I'd hold my peace for ever!
[CLIFFORD kneels; presenting a letter.]
Does he kneel?
A lady am I to my heart's content!
Could he unmake me that which claims his knee, I'd kneel to him--I would! I would!--Your will?
_Clif_. This letter from my lord.
_Julia_. O fate! Who speaks?
_Clif_. The secretary of my lord.
