Has got a starrier eye.

Third Ret.

His eyes are blue—

But leave my hawks alone!

Fourth Ret.

So tall and shapely!
Fifth Ret.

There now

So young, and yet

Here's Lord Tresham's self!

there's what a nobleman should be!

He's older, graver, loftier, he's more like

First Ret. Our master takes his hand Richard and his white staff are on the move Back fall our people tsh!there's Timothy Sure to get tangled in his ribbon-ties —

And Peter's cursed rosette's a-coming off !—
At last I see our lord's back and his friend's -

And the whole beautiful bright company

Close round them in they go! [Jumping down from the window-bench, and making for the table and its jugs.] Good health, long life,

Great joy to our Lord Tresham and his House!

Sixth Ret. My father drove his father first to court, After his marriage-day — ay, did he !

Second Ret.

God bless

Lord Tresham, Lady Mildred, and the Earl!
Here, Gerard, reach your beaker!

Ger.

Drink, my boys!

Don't mind me - all's not right about me - drink!

Second Ret. [Aside.] He's vexed now, that he let the show escape!

[To Ger.] Remember that the Earl returns this way.

Ger. That way?

Second Ret.

Ger.

Second Ret.

Just so.

Then my way's here.

[Goes.

Old Gerard

Will die soon - mind, I said it! He was used
To care about the pitifullest thing

That touched the House's honour, not an eye
But his could see wherein and on a cause
Of scarce a quarter this importance, Gerard
Fairly had fretted flesh and bone away

In cares that this was right, nor that was wrong,
Such point decorous, and such square by rule-

He knew such niceties, no herald more ;

And now - you see his humour: die he will!

Second Ret. God help him! Who's for the great servants'

hall

To hear what's going on inside? They'd follow

Lord Tresham into the saloon.

Third Ret.

Fourth Ret.

I!

I!

Leave Frank alone for catching at the door
Some hint of how the parley goes inside!
Prosperity to the great House once more!
Here's the last drop!

First Ret.

Have at you! Boys, hurrah!

SCENE II. A SALOON IN THE MANSION

Enter LORD TRESHAM, LORD MERTOUN, AUSTIN, and GUENDOLEN.

Tres. I welcome you, Lord Mertoun, yet once more,

To this ancestral roof of mine. Your name

Noble among the noblest in itself,

Yet taking in your person, fame avers,
New price and lustre as that gem you wear,
Transmitted from a hundred knightly breasts,
Fresh chased and set and fixed by its last lord,
Seems to rekindle at the core

Would win you welcome!

Mer.

Tres.

your name

Thanks!

But add to that,

The worthiness and grace and dignity
Of your proposal for uniting both

Our Houses even closer than respect

Unites them now — add these, and you must grant

One favour more, nor that the least,

to think

The welcome I should give; 't is given! My lord,
My only brother, Austin - he's the king's.

Our cousin, Lady Guendolen - betrothed

To Austin: all are yours.

Mer.

I thank you- less

forbids

For the express commendings which your seal,
And only that, authenticates

My putting from me to my heart I take
Your praisebut praise less claims my gratitude,
Than the indulgent insight it implies

Of what must needs be uppermost with one

Who comes, like me, with the bare leave to ask,
In weighed and measured unimpassioned words,
A gift, which, if as calmly 't is denied,
He must withdraw, content upon his cheek,
Despair within his soul. That I dare ask
Firmly, near boldly, near with confidence,

That gift, I have to thank you. Yes, Lord Tresham,
I love your sister - as you'd have one love

That lady -oh! more, more I love her! Wealth,
Rank, all the world thinks me, they're yours, you know,
To hold or part with, at your choice — but grant
My true self, me without a rood of land,

A piece of gold, a name of yesterday,
Grant me that lady, and you

- Death or life?

Guen. [Apart to Aus.] Why, this is loving, Austin ! Aus. He's so young! Guen. Young? Old enough, I think, to half surmise He never had obtained an entrance here,

Were all this fear and trembling needed.

Ever with best desert goes diffidence.

I may speak plainly nor be misconceived.
That I am wholly satisfied with you

On this occasion, when a falcon's eye

Were dull compared with mine to search out faults,
Is somewhat. Mildred's hand is hers to give

Or to refuse.

Mer.

But you, you grant my suit?

I have your word if hers?

Tres.

My best of words

If hers encourage you. I trust it will.

Have you seen Lady Mildred, by the way?

Mer. I-I- our two demesnes, remember, touch; I have been used to wander carelessly

After my stricken game: the heron roused

or else

Deep in my woods, has trailed its broken wing
Thro' thicks and glades a mile in yours,-
Some eyass ill-reclaimed has taken flight
And lured me after her from tree to tree,.
I marked not whither. I have come upon
The lady's wondrous beauty unaware,

Guen. [Aside to Aus.] Note that mode
Of faltering out that, when a lady passed,
He, having eyes, did see her! You had said.
"On such a day I scanned her, head to foot;
Observed a red, where red should not have been,
Outside her elbow; but was pleased enough
Let such irreverent talk

Upon the whole."

Be lessened for the future !

What's to say

Tres.
May be said briefly. She has never known
A mother's care; I stand for father too.
Her beauty is not strange to you, it seems
You can not know the good and tender heart,
Its girl's trust and its woman's constancy,
How pure yet passionate, how calm yet kind,
How grave yet joyous, how reserved yet free
As light where friends are how imbued with lore
The world most prizes, yet the simplest, yet

The

one might know I talked of Mildred — thus We brothers talk!

Control 's not for this lady; but her wish
To please me outstrips in its subtlety
My power of being pleased: herself creates
The want she means to satisfy. My heart
Prefers your suit to her as 't were its own.
Can I say more?

On aught less precious. I'm beneath the roof

Which holds her: while I thought of that, my speech

To you would wander― as it must not do,

Since as you favour me I stand or fall.

I pray you suffer that I take my leave!

Tres. With less regret 't is suffered, that again

We meet, I hope, so shortly.

Mer.

We? again?

Ah! yes, forgive me when shall-you will crown
Your goodness by forthwith apprising me
When-if- the lady will appoint a day
For me to wait on you—and her.

Tres.

So soon

As I am made acquainted with her thoughts

On your proposal ·

howsoe'er they lean

A messenger shall bring you the result.

Mer. You can not bind me more to you, my lord.
Farewell till we renew-I trust, renew

A converse ne'er to disunite again.

Tres. So may it prove!
Mer.

My humble salutation!

You, lady, you, sir, take

Here I have an advantage of the Earl,
Confess now! I'd not think that all was safe
Because my lady's brother stood my friend!
Why, he makes sure of her—"do you say, yes
She'll not say no," what comes it to beside?
I should have prayed the brother, "speak this speech,
For Heaven's sake urge this on her —put in this
Forget not, as you'd save me, t'other thing, -
Then set down what she says, and how she looks,

And if she smiles, and "— in an under breath

"Only let her accept me, and do you

And all the world refuse me, if you dare!"

Mean

Guen. That way you'd take, friend Austin? What a shame

I was your cousin, tamely from the first

Your bride, and all this fervour's run to waste!

Do you know you speak sensibly to-day?

The Earl's a fool.

Aus.

Here's Thorold. Tell him so!

Tres. [Returning.] Now, voices, voices! 'St! the lady's

first!

How seems he?. seems he not

come, faith give fraud

The mercy-stroke whenever they engage!

Down with fraud, up with faith! How seems the Earl?
A name! a blazon! if you knew their worth,

As you will never! come - the Earl?

Guen.

He's young.

Tres. What's she? an infant save in heart and brain.
Young! Mildred is fourteen, remark! And you—
Austin, how old is she?

Guen.

There's tact for you!

I meant that being young was good excuse