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A Saloon in the Mansion | |
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Enter LORD TRESHAM, LORD MERTOUN, AUSTIN, and GUENDOLEN | |
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| Tresham. I welcome you, Lord Mertoun, yet once more, | |
| To this ancestral roof of mine. Your name | |
| —Noble among the noblest in itself, | 5 |
| 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 re-kindle at the core)—your name | 10 |
| Would win you welcome!— | |
| Mertoun. Thanks! | |
| Tresham. —But add to that, | |
| The worthiness and grace and dignity | |
| Of your proposal for uniting both | 15 |
| 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;—’tis given! My lord, | |
| My only brother, Austin: he’s the king’s. | 20 |
| Our cousin, Lady Guendolen—betrothed | |
| To Austin: all are yours. | |
| Mertoun. I thank you—less | |
| For the expressed commendings which your seal, | |
| And only that, authenticates—forbids | 25 |
| My putting from me … to my heart I take | |
| Your praise … but 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, | 30 |
| In weighed and measured unimpassioned words, | |
| A gift, which, if as calmly ’tis denied, | |
| He must withdraw, content upon his cheek, | |
| Despair within his soul. That I dare ask | |
| Firmly, near boldly, near with confidence | 35 |
| 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 | 40 |
| 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? | |
| Guendolen [apart to AUSTIN]. Why, this is loving, Austin! | |
| Austin. He’s so young! | 45 |
| Guendolen. Young? Old enough, I think, to half surmise | |
| He never had obtained an entrance here, | |
| Were all this fear and trembling needed. | |
| Austin. Hush! | |
| He reddens. | 50 |
| Guendolen. Mark him, Austin; that’s true love! | |
| Ours must begin again. | |
| Tresham. We’ll sit, my lord. | |
| Ever with best desert goes diffidence. | |
| I may speak plainly nor be misconceived | 55 |
| 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. | 60 |
| Mertoun. But you, you grant my suit? | |
| I have your word if hers? | |
| Tresham. My best of words | |
| If hers encourage you. I trust it will. | |
| Have you seen Lady Mildred, by the way? | 65 |
| Mertoun. I … I … our two demesnes, remember, touch, | |
| I have been used to wander carelessly | |
| After my stricken game: the heron roused | |
| Deep in my woods, has trailed its broken wing | |
| Thro’ thicks and glades a mile in yours,—or else | 70 |
| 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, | |
| And—and then … I have seen her. | 75 |
| Guendolen [aside to AUSTIN]. 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, | 80 |
| Outside her elbow; but was pleased enough | |
| Upon the whole.” Let such irreverent talk | |
| Be lessoned for the future! | |
| Tresham. What’s to say | |
| May be said briefly. She has never known | 85 |
| A mother’s care; I stand for father too. | |
| Her beauty is not strange to you, it seems— | |
| You cannot know the good and tender heart, | |
| Its girl’s trust and its woman’s constancy, | |
| How pure yet passionate, how calm yet kind, | 90 |
| 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! | 95 |
| Mertoun. I thank you. | |
| Tresham. In a word, | |
| Control’s not for this lady; but her wish | |
| To please me outstrips in its subtlety | |
| My power of being pleased: herself creates | 100 |
| The want she means to satisfy. My heart | |
| Prefers your suit to her as ’twere its own. | |
| Can I say more? | |
| Mertoun. No more—thanks, thanks—no more! | |
| Tresham. This matter then discussed… | 105 |
| Mertoun. —We’ll waste no breath | |
| 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. | 110 |
| I pray you suffer that I take my leave! | |
| Tresham. With less regret ’tis suffered, that again | |
| We meet, I hope, so shortly. | |
| Mertoun. We? again?— | |
| Ah yes, forgive me—when shall … you will crown | 115 |
| Your goodness by forthwith apprising me | |
| When … if … the lady will appoint a day | |
| For me to wait on you—and her. | |
| Tresham. So soon | |
| As I am made acquainted with her thoughts | 120 |
| On your proposal—howsoe’er they lean— | |
| A messenger shall bring you the result. | |
| Mertoun. You cannot bind me more to you, my lord. | |
| Farewell till we renew … I trust, renew | |
| A converse ne’er to disunite again. | 125 |
| Tresham. So may it prove! | |
| Mertoun. You, lady, you, sir, take | |
| My humble salutation! | |
| Guendolen and Austin. Thanks! | |
| Tresham. Within there! [Servants enter. TRESHAM conducts MERTOUN to the door. Meantime AUSTIN remarks, Well, | 130 |
| 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? | 135 |
| 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) | 140 |
| “Only let her accept me, and do you | |
| And all the world refuse me, if you dare!” | |
| Guendolen. 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! | 145 |
| Do you know you speak sensibly to-day? | |
| The Earl’s a fool. | |
| Austin. Here’s Thorold. Tell him so! | |
| Tresham [returning]. Now, voices, voices! ’St! the lady’s first! | |
| How seems he?—seems he not … come, faith give fraud | 150 |
| 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? | |
| Guendolen. He’s young. | 155 |
| Tresham. What’s she? an infant save in heart and brain. | |
| Young! Mildred is fourteen, remark! And you… | |
| Austin, how old is she? | |
| Guendolen. There’s tact for you! | |
| I meant that being young was good excuse | 160 |
| If one should tax him… | |
| Tresham. Well? | |
| Guendolen. —With lacking wit. | |
| Tresham. He lacked wit? Where might he lack wit, so please you? | |
| Guendolen. In standing straighter than the steward’s rod | 165 |
| And making you the tiresomest harangue, | |
| Instead of slipping over to my side | |
| And softly whispering in my ear, “Sweet lady, | |
| Your cousin there will do me detriment | |
| He little dreams of: he’s absorbed, I see, | 170 |
| In my old name and fame—be sure he’ll leave | |
| My Mildred, when his best account of me | |
| Is ended, in full confidence I wear | |
| My grandsire’s periwig down either cheek. | |
| I’m lost unless your gentleness vouchsafes”… | 175 |
| Tresham …”To give a best of best accounts, yourself, | |
| Of me and my demerits.” You are right! | |
| He should have said what now I say for him. | |
| Yon golden creature, will you help us all? | |
| Here’s Austin means to vouch for much, but you | 180 |
| —You are … what Austin only knows! Come up, | |
| All three of us: she’s in the library | |
| No doubt, for the day’s wearing fast. Precede! | |
| Guendolen. Austin, how we must—! | |
| Tresham. Must what? Must speak truth, | 185 |
| Malignant tongue? Detect one fault in him! | |
| I challenge you! | |
| Guendolen. Witchcraft’s a fault in him, | |
| For you’re bewitched. | |
| Tresham. What’s urgent we obtain | 190 |
| Is, that she soon receive him—say, to-morrow— | |
| Next day at furthest. | |
| Guendolen. Ne’er instruct me! | |
| Tresham. Come! | |
| —He’s out of your good graces, since forsooth, | 195 |
| He stood not as he’d carry us by storm | |
| With his perfections! You’re for the composed | |
| Manly assured becoming confidence! | |
| —Get her to say, “to-morrow,” and I’ll give you… | |
| I’ll give you black Urganda, to be spoiled | 200 |
| With petting and snail-paces. Will you? Come! | |
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