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Fred. But where is it?
Have found it out.
Ulrick. You mean, a heart to love?
Fred. If not such a heart, as well no heart at all!
She has a heart, sir, and a heart to love!
Fred. How comes it, then, I plead a bootless suit,
Ulrick. Thou art sure?
Fred. I am.
Disheartened at a race that hath no goal,
My rivals leave the field to me alone.
Ulrick. Thou mayst have rivals whom thou know'st not of.
Fred. No! I have pressed her father oft thereon, And learned the history, beginning, close
Of every siege of wooing-ending each
In mortified retreat.
Ulrick. You may have rivals
Unknown to him. Love joys in mystery;
Fred. You are still at fault :
She has no favoured lover-cannot have,
Ulrick. Call naught impossible, till thou hast proved
Who then, 'midst millions, seems to stand alone.
So where sex is, that also must be there,
As where the sun, also the light and heat.
So of two issues, set thy mind to one
She has found the man who stands 'mongst millions sole,
Or he is yet to find, and thou not he.
Fred. Thou nam'st two issues-I can find a third.
Fred. Here. As many streams will
To make one river up, one passion oft
Ulrick. What passion, swoln in her, drinks up the rest?
Ulrick. Of her beauty, or her rank, or what?
Fred. Pride of herself! intolerant of all
Equality; nor that its bounds alone
Oppressive to the thing that is beneath her.
Say that she waves me off when I advance,
Suitor and secretary fare alike.
I woo for scorn, he for no better serves
Nay, rather worse comes off.
Ulrick. Her secretary ?
Fred. The only one of all his wretched class
Her presence brooks; for he is useful to her:
Reads with a music, as a lute did talk ;
Translates dark languages-for learning which
Of all sweet instruments that men essay-
Ulrick. A useful man
Your highness draws! What kind of thing is he
Fred. 'Faith, proper, sir, in trunk,
Feature, and limb; to envy, though a serf.
But, err I not, a most unhappy man,
And, for his service, weary of his life.
Ulrick. Oh, love! a wilful, wayward thing thou art 'Twere strange! 'twere very strange!
Fred. What? what were strange ?
What saidst thou now, apostrophising love?
And so it is-fantastic and perverse !
Which makes its sport of persons and of seasons,
"It is the bee that finds the honey out,
"Where least you'd dream 'twould seek the nectar us
"And 'tis an arrant masquer, this same love
"That most outlandish, freakish faces wear,
To hide its own! Looks a proud Spaniard now;
Now, a grave Turk; hot Ethiopian next;
"And then, phlegmatic Englishman; and then,
"Gay Frenchman; by and by, Italian, at
"All things a song; and in another skip,
"Gruff Dutchman;-still is love behind the masque! "It is a hypocrite!-looks every way
"But that where lie its thoughts!"-will openly
Shows most like hate, e'en when it most is love;
It falls on its knees, making most piteous suit
Fred. To that intent
I sent for thee; for thou art keen of sight
Ulrick. Your pardon, sir:-your father bade me come To warn you, in these times of turbulence, He means to stand aloof, and take no part Between the barons and the empress; so Your course you know to shape. What company Is this?
[Looking off, t
Fred. The countess flies her hawk to-day,
say, he follows her: he woos her not,
Through pride, 'tis said, lest he be thought to hunt
[They retire, R. U. E.
But what my betters stoop to, day by day,
Chris. And such a man, methinks, Sir Rupert seems.
Cath. Ah! he is poor!
Chris. And what of that? He's proud,
And seems as jealous of his poverty
Almost as you are.
Cath. Yes! He makes no suit :
He ever follows me, yet stands aloof,
Prefer you any?
Cath. No. Have I not said,
When taxed with paying court to me, the rest-
Cath. Sir Rupert? No!
Chris. I am sure Sir Rupert loves you: he has all The signs of a lover.
Cath. What are they?
Chris. He sighs!
Cath. Sighs! Listen to me! [Drawing a deep sigh |
Of that, for a sigh! and say you, I'm in love?
Coins ducats. Shows are all uncertain things,
And him to show it, I would see it on!
Cath. What is that to you ? Dear girl,
Chris. A most strange lady, she!
A form of flesh and a heart of ice.