Bridges 
 
 The Humours of the Court: A Comedy in Three 
 
 Acts
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ^0. bi. Itimoxtrs of the €ouxt.
 
 THE 
 
 HUMOURS 
 
 OF THE COURT 
 
 A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT /bridges. 
 
 Published by George Bell & Sons, Covent Garden, 
 and J. & E. Bumpus, Lim., Holborn Bars.
 
 THE 
 
 HUMOURS OF THE COURT. 
 
 DRAMA T/S PERSON AI. 
 
 RICHARD... 
 FREDERICK 
 Sir GREGOR Y 
 ST. NICHOLAS 
 TRISTRAM 
 
 DIANA 
 LAURA ... 
 FLORA 
 
 Duke of Milan {RICARDO). 
 
 Secretary to Diana. 
 
 Her Major-domo. 
 
 A courtier : suitor of Laura. 
 
 Servant to Frederick. 
 
 Countess of Belflor. 
 
 Her adopted sister : daughter to Gregory. 
 
 Maid to Diana. 
 
 MARCELA, DOROTHY, KATHARINE, ROSE. Maids. 
 
 Scene at Be/for, the residence of Diana. 
 Duration of time, three days : one to each Act. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Terrace before the palace in the gardens of 
 
 Bet/lor. Chairs set out. FREDERICK and 
 
 RICARDO. TRI.S7RAM stands at a little 
 
 distance, edging up to overhear. 
 
 FREDEKICK. 
 OUR secret's safe with me. I sliouUl belnirt 
 I'll lliink that there was any man on earth 
 Wliom you could trust before me : and if 
 
 my ])lace 
 I Icre in the court can help you in your love, 
 Reckon upon me. 
 
 R. I do, and hope some day 
 
 It may be in my good fortune to repay you 
 For such a favour. 
 
 F. Favour ! what a word 
 
 To an old friend ! 
 
 R. Nay, do not misconstrue me. 
 
 /'. I own I am jealous, Richard, of the time 
 We have lived apart. There was a (ouch of fear '" 
 Mixed with my joy, when you broke in upon mc 
 This morning, that the ten years h.id not spared me. 
 
 You find me changed ? Say, doth my countenance 
 Wear the smug livery of the world ? 
 
 R. Nay, friend ; 
 
 I see no trace of that. 
 
 F. Then I remember 
 
 While T h.ive played you have been within the mill : 
 And should I beat your coat there must liy out 
 Clouds of that dusty, damned experience. 
 Is not that so, your gi ace ? 
 
 R. Go on : provoke me 
 
 As you were wont. 
 
 F. The best reitieml)rancc, Richard, 
 
 Drowns in the world : and how should college days 
 Live in your memory as they do in mine ? 
 'Tis no such lustre to your brilliant life 
 'I'hat we were comratles in Utojiia, 
 That commonwealth of study and idleness, 
 Where sport, adventure, poetry and music 
 Were sauced with virgin-juice, a dish for gods. 
 
 R. As if I could forget I 
 
 F. Ay, but the spirit ! 
 
 Think you we should have spoken of favours then ? 
 In those days, Richard, we were used to think ' 
 
 Our teachers never had tasted life like ours ;
 
 Act I.] 
 
 The llumour.t of ike Court. 
 
 149 
 
 Their staid propriety not logically 
 
 Deducible from essences as fresh 
 
 As angels of the sunrise. Shall the boys 
 
 Now say the same of us ? By heaven you fright me : 
 
 The heart of manhood not to outlive a dog ! 
 
 Then my old grudge against you. 
 
 a. ^Vhat was that ? 
 
 F. Your rank, which first drew us apart : but now 
 To meet again and have you in my debt 
 Is favour, by your leave, above repayment. *" 
 
 R. Still as proud as a peacock. 
 
 F. Could I do you a service. 
 
 But can I ? See, I am here the Countess' secretary : 
 To make believe that you are a stranger to me 
 Were breach of ti"ust. 
 
 H. But love makes tricks of crimes. 
 
 F. And if she has often seen you, how suppose 
 .She will not know you ? 
 
 R. 'Tis so long ago 
 
 That now in my disguise 1 have no fear. 
 You did not know me. 
 
 /'. That was but your beard. 
 
 R. She hath not seen my beard : and 'tis impossible 
 She shoidd suspect. She has treated me all along 
 With such disdain, that I, in love as I am, 
 Can scarce believe I venture ; but— I am mad. 
 Nothing could keep me back. Hear all my story, 
 And then see how I am changed. 'Tis three years 
 
 since 
 I saw her first at Rome. His Holiness 
 (lave a reception ; I with some of the guests 
 Had strayed to view the galleries : suddenly 
 Out of a group before me — as if a Clrace, 
 That lived in Rafael's brain to mock his hand. 
 Had stepped alive amongst us to rebuke '" 
 
 Our admiration of the fresco stulf — 
 She turned and faced me. 
 Quick as I tell, I read my fate: I knew 
 What I was born for. Love's first ecstasy 
 Fooled me to a false security. That night 
 I I wrote my passion ; and by such presumption 
 Offended. My after patience met with scorn, 
 My importunity anger. I then desisted, 
 Trying if by absence I could woric my cure. 
 Twelve months of trial bring me here to-day ''" 
 
 With no hope left but this ; that living near her 
 Her daily and familiar sight may blunt 
 My strained ideal passion ; or if this 
 Quench not my fancy, it may serve to feed it 
 With something tangible and wholesomer 
 Than the day dreams of sick imagination. 
 
 F. I wish your cure; for, to say truth, the Countess 
 Is somewhat odd ; as you will see yourself. 
 
 R. 'Tis for my cure I come. — Your servant there. 
 Might he not hear us ? 
 
 F. {to T.). Tristram, just look round *" 
 
 If you can see the Countess. 
 
 T. {aside, going). What is there here now that I 
 may not know ? 
 That I am sent off? Who can this stranger be 
 So suddenly familiar with my master ? 
 And comes here for his cure ! Here to this haunt 
 Of women and lunatics ! I'll find him out. 
 
 [Exit singing to himself, 
 
 F. My man is trusty and dull ; devoted to me. 
 
 R. Excuse my caution : if we were overheard, — 
 
 If any guessed I were the Duke of Milan, 
 
 The venture which I make would be my ruin : *' 
 
 All that I ask is secrecy. In this letter 
 
 I have written the Countess from myself, as Duke, 
 
 Recommendation of myself, the bearer. 
 
 As one Ricardo, begging for the same 
 
 Protection in her court for some few days. 
 
 Present me as a stranger : had I been such 
 
 You could not have refused. 
 
 F. Trust me to serve you : 
 
 But give your letter to the major-domo : 
 He attends her in the grounds ; when they come by 
 I'll point him out. Better know nought of me. '"" 
 What think you of the gardens ? 
 
 R. All this hour 
 
 I have seemed in Paradise : and the fair prospect 
 Hath quieted my spirit : I think I sail 
 Into the windless haven of my life 
 To-day with happy omens : as the stir 
 And sleep-forbidding rattle of the journey 
 Was like my life till now. Here all is peace : 
 The still fresh air of this October morniug. 
 With its resigning odours ; the rich hues 
 Wherein the gay leaves revel to their fall ; "" 
 
 The deep blue sky; the misty distances. 
 And splashing fountains ; and I thought I heard 
 A magic service of meandering music 
 Threading the glades and stealing on the lawns. 
 Was I mistaken ? 
 
 Re-enter Tristram iinpeixeived ; he stands by listening 
 at back, as if waiting to be observed. 
 
 F. Nay, nay : there was music. 
 
 But why the jocund morn so dissolutely 
 Forestalls the faint and lulling chants of eve 
 I must explain. The Countess, whom you court. 
 Hath an unwholesome temper ; what its nature 
 You, when you have seen it, will be as like to guess 
 .\s any other. She hath a restless spirit 
 And eager ; and, what seems a sign of note, 
 Suffers from jealousy without a cause. 
 She is full of fancies ; and hath, like a school-girl. 
 Drawn up a code of her peculiar notions, 
 Whereby, in place of coramonsense and manners, 
 She rules her petty court with tyrannies 
 Of fine and forfeit. Then, although she lives 
 Pampered with luxury, and hath a sense 
 O'ergreedy of all that's offered, yet she takes '-'"' 
 
 Her pleasure feveiously, and pines in plenty. 
 'Tis a derangement. — the music which you heard 
 Was a diversion of my own contrivance 
 To pass the hour : the evil spirit within her 
 Yields most to music. 
 
 R. What you say is strange. 
 
 F. 'Tis unaccountable. 
 
 T. {coming forward). And so you'd say, 
 Knew you the cause. 
 
 F. Tristram ! 
 
 R. {aside). Now damn this fellow 
 
 {To T.). Perhaps you know it, sir? 
 
 T. I know it, yes : 
 
 But may not speak. 
 
 F. I bid you speak and show '*" 
 
 My friend your wisdom. 
 
 T. To your secrets then 
 
 .\dd this. The Countess is in love. 
 
 PR 
 
 1360453
 
 ItO 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 In love ! 
 
 K. and F. 
 
 T. In love. 
 
 R. and F. With whom ? 
 
 T. With whom . . . 
 
 R. Bi\t say with whom. 
 
 T. Stay. 1 will say with whoiiv 
 'Tis one to whom she dare not mal;e avowal. 
 
 F. Say wliom you mean. 
 
 T. Why, who but me ! 
 
 F. The fool ! 
 
 We wish not for your jests. Where is the Countess ? 
 
 T. She is coming by the lake, sir. 
 
 F. Stand aside, 
 
 We have business now. 
 
 T. (asidi, going). The fish bite very well : 
 I hooked them both at first cast of my fly. 
 
 (Sings to himself.) 
 
 F. 'Twould make us brotliers, Richard. 
 
 F. Brothers?— how? '" 
 
 F. Ha\-ing your secret, I must give you mine. 
 I also love a lady in tlie court. 
 Secretly too, as you, though with success ; 
 And she is foster-sister to your lady. 
 The prudery with which the Countess rules 
 Drave us to hide our liking at the first ; 
 And as that grew, deception still kept pace, 
 Enhancing the romance of our delight 
 With stolen intercourse. But these last days 
 A cloud liath risen : for the lady's father, "" 
 
 (That's the old major-domo, whom I spoke of,) 
 Hath been befooled to give his daughter away 
 To a wre.athcd as;, a cousin of the Countess, 
 Who hath herself approved the match. You find me 
 i In this dilemma, wi^eiher to confess 
 My love for Laura, — that's the lady's name — 
 Braving the Countess' anger, or carry her off, 
 And after sue for favour. [A/tisif hrord.) 
 
 Hark ! here they come. 
 I'll tell you more hereafter. 
 
 R. Ay, do : but now 
 
 J'orget not nie. {.Aside.) By Jove, lie has capped 
 my story.— '"" 
 
 Diana's sister too: ami I entrapped 
 To aid in her elopement. 
 
 Enter Diana, Laura, Gtegory, and St. Niiholas ; 
 with attendant musicians and singers, who go out 
 ivhen the music is done. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 I'ire of heaven, whose starry arrow, 
 I'ierccs the veil of timeless night : 
 Molten spheres, whose tempests narrow 
 Their floods to a beam of gentle light. 
 To charm with a moonray quenched from fire 
 The laiul of delight, the land of desire. 
 F. (to R.). That is the maiordomo Gregory 
 With the white locks. Take him aside, he is deaf. 
 
 {/hiring next verse R. makes his way to C, and 
 they arc seen talking aside during the other 
 dialogue. ) 
 A/usic continued — 
 
 .Smile of love — a flower planted, 
 Sprung in the garden of joy that .irt : 
 Kycs that shine with a glow cnch.anlcd, 
 Whose spreading fires encircle my heart, 
 
 And warm with a noonray drenched in fire 
 My land of delight, my land of desire ! 
 
 D. I envy much the melancholy spirit 
 Who wove that strain. The verses too were fetched 
 Out of a deeper well than common jiassion 
 Hath skill to draw from. Frederick, who is the poet 
 That I must love for this ? 
 
 F. Love for my art "' 
 
 Hath made your ladyship too generous 
 Towards a most liumble workman. 'Tis my own. 
 
 D. Ah me ! what must it be to be a poet, 
 And in the abandon-d humour that men take with, 
 To give forth 1 O 'tis godlike ! but the music, — 
 'Tis that you excel in : it hath a melancholy 
 Which springs of love. 
 
 F. The whole world sprang of love ; 
 
 And art is but the praise the creature makes 
 To the Creator. 
 
 D. True : and the best praise "* 
 
 Is but love's echo. 1 mean you love some lady. 
 She is very hapjiy. Would I knew her name. 
 
 F. When I shall love a lady, and have means 
 To court her, you shall hear gay music. 
 
 J). Means ! 
 
 Is she so mercenary ? 
 
 F. Your ladyship 
 
 Must take this lady of your own creation 
 With all her faults. Love is a hLxury 
 You may suspect in me when I have money 
 To spend in presents. 
 
 D. Whom you love I know not : 
 
 But whether it be a queen or peasant girl, "" 
 
 'Tis all one. Love exallelh above lank 
 Or wealth ; yet in Love's ritual 'twere well wished 
 To express your homage fully. Ilo, .Sir Gregory ! 
 Sir Gregory ! 
 
 6'. Your ladyship I 
 
 J). tJive I'rederick 
 
 A hundred ducats at my household charge. 
 
 G. (to F.). What sai<l my lady? 
 
 F. (aside). An open insult. 
 
 T. (to G.). Thou'rt to give my master 
 
 A hundred ducals for a wherewithal 
 To make his lady presents. 
 
 /•'. (lo 7'.). Silence, idiot. 
 
 7'. He heard not : you may lose the money. 
 
 G. My lady, '"" 
 A gentleman from Milan. (Presenting R.) 
 
 /). (hal/asidc^). Milan, say you ? 
 I thought we had done with Milan. 
 
 /'. (,)ueen of Helflor, 
 
 This letter from the Duke explains my coming. 
 
 /). Welcome, sir, whencesoe'er : but if from 
 Milan, 
 Hiingst ihou this letter, or did it bring thee? 
 
 R. I bring the letter, madam : and 'tis writ 
 Hut in my favour. 
 
 D. Ciood : on that assurance 
 
 I'll read. (Ofcns letter.) 
 
 (F. has passed across to make way for G. and R., 
 
 coming near Laura, front, side.) 
 L. (lo /■'. ) \o\\ have my glove ? 
 
 ' 'rlic iLiIf-asidcs ill the pl;iy in presence of GrcRory are 
 spoken either with iiulilTtrrcncc as to whrlhcr (i. will hear, or 
 with Kiiifulciicc th.U hf will imt.
 
 Act I.] 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 151 
 
 F. Ye5. 
 
 L, Wlii;ii I drop the otiier, 
 Exchange them secretly. ^'•'° 
 
 D. (leading to auJimce). " The bearer, my servant 
 Ricariio, having lutrt his cliallcnger in a duel, I beg 
 for him a few days' protection in your court, till some 
 consequent rancour be appeased. Let my long silence 
 and absence win for me tliis iillle gi.ace." 
 With reason and good courtesy asked. Ricardo, 
 Make your asylum here. Sir Gregory 
 Will tell you that such residence implies 
 Certain restraints, in which we look to find 
 Compliance. 
 
 {Laura drops a glcn'e, which F. snatches up, and i> 
 seen by the audience to exchange for another.) 
 N. [stepping forward betiueen F. and L. ). I pray 
 thee, sir ; nay sir, I pray. 
 My duty. 
 
 F. is't thy glove? 
 
 N. Yes, when it falls. '"" 
 
 F. How so? When heaven doth rain, it rains for 
 all. 
 i Thou shouldst have picked it up. 
 
 N. I ran to do so, 
 
 But thou anticipatedest me. I pray 
 Give 't me, that I restore it to my lady. 
 
 F, Claim not her gloves, sir, till her gloves are 
 thine. 
 
 Now thou anticipatest. 
 
 N. Sir Gregory 1 
 
 A question. 
 
 G. Eigh ! 
 
 D. What is this, St. Nicholas ? 
 
 N. I beg Sir Gregory judge 'twixt me and 
 Frederick. 
 My lady Laura, having dropped her glove, 
 He picks it up, and would return it to her ; -^^ 
 
 Which I forbid, claiming the privilege 
 As her accepted lover. 
 
 D. A mighty question. 
 
 Who can determine it ? 
 
 T. That can L The lady 
 
 Should drop the other, and let each have one. 
 
 D, St. Nicholas would cl.tim both, Sir Solomon. 
 [To F.). Give me the glove. I thank you much; 
 
 and now 
 I offer better matter for discussion : 
 The chairs were set on purpose. Let all be seated. 
 Laura, take back thy glove ; and sit thou there. -'■* 
 You, Frederick, on my right. {To A'.) 'Tis what I call 
 The Muses* matinee. 1'hese morning hours. 
 Which others waste, we may devote to wisdom. 
 And solve some learned question ; as was done 
 In ancient Athens ; where, as Plato shows, 
 Nothing was more admired than dialogues 
 
 DIANA 
 
 TRIS TRAM Stands LA URA 
 
 FREDERICK NICHOLAS 
 
 GREGORY RIChArD 
 
 In science and philosophy. I will hold 
 Such an assembly : we will each in turn 
 Make answer to the question I propose. 
 And that shall be of love. I'll question why 
 Love is called bitter-sweet. 
 
 N. Now, by my heart, '"" 
 
 .\ pretty question. May I spe.ik the first? 
 
 D. In turn, in turn. Hark, if I put it thus, 
 What is love's chiefest pain? How think you, 
 
 Frederick ? 
 The speech lies with Ricardo, as our guest. 
 
 R. Am I to answer ? 
 
 D. Ay, sir : you must tell 
 
 What, in your judgment, is love's chiefest pain. 
 
 R. "lis well, my lady, I am not one of those. 
 Who, when they would speak wisely, go about 
 To weigh their pros and cons ; in doing which 
 They but confess their common thoughts are folly, -'" 
 Which they must mask. I have a steady mind. 
 Which thinking cannot mend : and well I know 
 The greatest pain in love is when a man 
 Hath loved a lady most deservedly, 
 And been most undeservedly refused ; 
 Yet, spite of her contempt, is silly-true. 
 And wastes his days. This is the pain of love ; 
 Or if another can be shewn to match, 
 I forfeit claim to wisdom in such matters. ^^ 
 
 D. Very well said, sir, if your speech be taken 
 To include the parallel, the equal pain 
 Of any woman who thus loves a man. 
 What say you, Frederick ? 
 
 F. Ricardo is in fault. 
 
 For love being not returned is but half love ; 
 In which imperfect state love's pain or bliss 
 Cannot be known : to love and be beloved 
 Is the required condition. But when two hearts, 
 Encountering in this mortal maze, have knit 
 Their preordained espousals, and together 
 In moonlight meeting and sweet conference, ■'""' 
 
 Signed the surrendering treaties of their love ; 
 If fate, or circumstance, or other's will 
 .Should then oppose them, and thrust in to sever 
 The new-spun cords with which they are bound ; I 
 
 say 
 This is the hardest pain that love can shew. 
 
 D. Ha ! you speak logic ; that love's perfect pain 
 Cannot exist but in love's perfect state. 
 Laura, 'tis thou to speak. 
 
 L. What shall I say ? 
 
 D. Give thy opinion ; or, in want of matter, 
 Be critical. A gloss may hit the mark '"' 
 
 Where the text fails. 
 
 /. If Frederick has said well. 
 
 That love's pain is a pain of love returned, 
 The i^ain of love must come from being loved, 
 
 D. O, most adorable simplicity ! 
 Before thy lover, too 1 St. Nicholas, 
 What wilt thou say? 
 
 N. Beshrew my science now, 
 
 If Lady Laura have not hit the mark. 
 'Tis vulgar error that would make distinction 
 'Twixt pain and joy ; which are, as life and death, 
 Inseparables. The shadowed images "^" 
 
 Cast on the wall of this memorial cave. 
 This earth, wherein we dwell, are things of nought, 
 But serving to mislead our darkling sense :
 
 152 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Nay health and strength are but the habitude 
 
 Of this delusion. Ask your ruddy clown 
 
 Of love ; will he not tell you 'tis a pleasure 
 
 Which moves the plain heart of the natural man ? 
 
 But to the poet, what is love to him ? 
 
 'Tis like heaven's rainbow scarf, woven of all hues 
 
 Of pain and joy ; an eagle and a snake ^^ 
 
 Stniggling in the void and crystalline abysm 
 
 Of life and death. And love's pain, what is that? 
 
 I have compared it to a sunbeamed tear, 
 
 Whose single pearl broiders the marble lids 
 
 Of some tall Sphinx, that with impassive smile 
 
 Dreams o'er the desert ; whence 'twas gathered up 
 
 Of earthly dew and the pale sparkle of stars, 
 
 To fall in silent lightning on the sands : 
 
 Which, at the touch magnifical, bloom forth 
 
 In irresistible fecundity. ^^^ 
 
 Such is love's pain, as it hath lit on me ; 
 
 And tinctured by it I would dream my day, 
 
 Nor count the sailing hour, but when night falls 
 
 Be closed up, like a belated bee 
 
 In the pale lily of death. 
 
 D. Now you all hear ! 
 
 K. (asii/e). Heavens ! a belated bee ! 
 
 D. Thy lover, Laura ; 
 
 What say'st thou ? 
 
 Z. O beautiful. 
 
 D. And you, Ricardo ? 
 
 A". Capital, capital ! 
 
 D. Sir (Sregory I 
 
 Sir Gregory ! 
 
 G. Eigh. 
 
 D. 'Tis now thy turn to speak. 
 
 G. Pardon, your ladyship ; but at the outset ^''° 
 I missed the question, and for lack of it 
 Have followed ill. 
 
 D. The question we discuss 
 
 Is this, What is the chiefest pain of love ? 
 
 G. The chiefest what? 
 
 D. I'ain. 
 
 G. Ah ! the pain of love. 
 
 D. 'Tis now thy turn to speak. 
 
 G. Oh, is't my turn ? 
 
 The chiefest pain of love ; I am asked to say 
 What that is ? 
 
 D. \e%. 
 
 G. \'our ladyship knows well 
 
 Vou ask of one who has lived to study truth 
 From nature's only teacher ; — without which 
 I would not speak. liut since you have often heard 
 Vour sainted mother tell from what sad cause '*' 
 
 She made my Laura your adopted sister, 
 .Saving my orphan in the only loss 
 That can befall a babe, its mother's care. 
 You know how by that loss there came to me 
 The chiefest pain of love ; which can, I think, 
 liut hap to wedded spirits, who have joyed 
 In mutual life : wherein, may he.aven forgive me 
 If the remembrance of my joy awake 
 Sorrow with thankfulness, the balance being ''" 
 
 So far on the good side, spite of the pain ; 
 Yet if 1 speak of it now without more tears 
 Than ye can sec, 'tis that Ihc founts are dried : 
 Time hath not helped me otherwise. I pray 
 (lod, who is merciful, to shield all here 
 From like calamity. 
 
 F. I say Amen 
 To good Sir Gregory. 
 
 Ji. And amen for me. 
 
 Enter Flora to D. 
 
 D. What is it. Flora ? 
 
 Ft. My lady, the merchant's come. 
 
 D. What merchant ? 
 
 Fl. The Venetian with the silks 
 
 Your ladyship bespoke. 
 
 D. {rising). Do you hear, Laura ? ''■" 
 
 Vour stuffs at last. Our matinee, my friends. 
 Is interrupted, an important matter 
 Unfortunately calls me away. Come, Laura : 
 There'll scarce be time to get the silks made up 
 Before your wedding. Come and choose Ihem with me. 
 St. Nicholas, we shall need thee too ; 'tis nothing 
 Unless thine eye is pleased. 
 
 N. I dote on silks. 
 
 I love their fine prismatic cadences. 
 Yet these Venetian colours to my taste 
 Are over-saturate : I'd have them cast '''' 
 
 With the Doge's ring in the sea. A good yenrs 
 
 soaking 
 ^Vould bring them down into that faded softness, 
 Which is a banquet to the cultured eye. 
 
 D. Ricardo, do you attend Sir Gregory, 
 And see your lodging. Come, St. Nicholas ; 
 Come, Laura ! 
 
 yE.xil with Laura and St. Nicholas. 
 Flm'a follo^ving. 
 
 G. [to R.). I wait upon you, if it please you 
 To visit your apartments. Tell me pray 
 What men you bring. 
 
 [E.xit -with R. maiing signs. 
 
 F. (tnliiig out the g/orc with the Ittttr). Thank 
 heaven, now I may read. 
 [Aside's. What saith my love ? what hope ? 
 
 7'. [<iside). Another letter ! '" 
 
 Whence got he this? 
 
 F. O blessed paper ! 
 
 7". [aside). Watch him ! 
 
 F. [reading, amay from T.). Dearest; all is 
 lost. They mistake my hesitation for consent. My 
 father has tixeil the marriage for three days hence. I 
 dared not say the truth. I know not wh.at I said. 
 My scn'^es left me . . . 
 
 (Aloud). Death ! death ! 
 
 T. [aside). By Gemini, this is a nasty one. 
 
 F. (reading as tie/ore). But be sure I never con- 
 sented. If there is no other escape, I must fly. Come 
 to-night to the garden. I will be at my window at 
 eleven o'clock. 
 
 (Aloud). Thank God, thank God. I breathe again. 
 I shall see thee to-night. 
 
 7'. I'ray, sir, *" 
 
 Is anything the matter? 
 
 F. Kh ! ah ! what said I ? 
 
 7". That you were dead, and then alive .igain. 
 
 F. 'Tis (rue. 
 
 T. I quite believe it. And then you said 
 
 That you would sec her to-night. 
 
 F. Pr.iy min<l your business, Tristram : 
 Pay more attention to what is said to you, 
 ;\ud less to what is not. Whom would ynu speak of?
 
 Act I.] 
 
 Tke Humours of' the Court. 
 
 ^Si 
 
 T. I speak of no one, sir. 
 
 F. No more do I. "' 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 T. My master's mad. If this is court life, I sliall 
 soon curse my birthday, like dutiful Job. 'Tis a mad- 
 house. If tliere were any sense in anything that's 
 said or done, I'd swear my hfe that the Countess 
 was in love with my master, and he might have her 
 for the asking. Vet 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.) 
 
 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 I 
 think I can do as well as any I have seen. (Dcitices 
 and sings. ) 
 
 So about and about ! fa, la ! 
 
 So about and about I fa, la ! etc. 
 
 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 ! [Dane- 
 
 ins)- 
 
 ( They dance to each other and then together ; zn 
 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. {A'issing her.) 
 
 Fl. I don't like you, Tristram. Vou take more 
 liberties in a day than others would in a month. 
 
 T. Ah! ah 1 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 ? ^w 
 
 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 ovit 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. 
 
 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. [E.xit Flora. 
 
 Good Tristram ; will you serve me ? 
 
 7". 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 tliank 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 lady- 
 ship to speak plainly, for I am a simple man ; and if 
 I am to assist your ladyship, I must understand your 
 ladyship. »" 
 
 I). You are a very sensible fellow, 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 ? 
 
 7'. 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. St.ay yet. Y'ou 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. 
 
 7'. Certainly ; as much or more than all the 
 court. 
 
 D. All the court ! 
 
 T. Except your ladyship ... I beg your lady- 
 ship'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 him- 
 self; then he reads and writes so many letters.
 
 154 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 V. Letters, you say ! '^ 
 
 T. Certainly. \Vhy, the moment tliat 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 l<now from whom 
 
 That letter came. 
 
 T. And that much I can tell. 
 
 IfSaw 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, liut 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 wcndd be of the court ? 
 
 T. ' Why certainly. 
 
 D. How so ? 
 
 T, Because 'tis only in the court ''* 
 
 That such ridiculous foolery would i')ass. 
 
 D. Stay. If he loveil 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. 
 
 V. 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. 
 
 D. I have set you on the track. If you will serve 
 mc, 
 Discover who this lady is : obseiTe 
 Your m.aster 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 
 Kor 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 a 
 most contemptible disease, from which a good servant 
 should seek to deliver his master, liut I don't think 
 we shall find any lady. w 
 
 D. No lady, no pay, Tristram ; remember that : 
 And, above all, be secret. Now, go your way, 
 And tell your master I wish to sec 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 mc into your pay. 
 
 \Eut. 
 
 D. To- night : they meet to-night. It may be now 
 That I am in time : maybe they have never met. 
 At least not tluis. it seems they have carried on 
 The inlrigue, so far, by letter, and now by letter "•" 
 They have made their assign.alion for to-night. 
 At last I have found out something ... it shall not 
 be . . . 
 
 Their first . . . no, no : that I can hinder . . . 
 
 I trust tlie clown : he could not frame a tale ; 
 
 And what I gave him won him. Vet no guess 
 
 Who slie sliould be. It tortures jealousy 
 
 To know so little : slill where little is known 
 
 May little be. But Frederick doth not feign. 
 
 N'ay if he feigned he would not hide it from me : 
 
 And loved he not another, he would be ""' 
 
 More open to my meaning when 1 try him 
 
 With such unveilings of my inclination 
 
 As make me blush alone. O perverse love, 
 
 .'^t 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 1 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 Eelflor. Here he comes. 
 
 My enemy and my deity. If he quarrel 
 
 With my command he is guilty ; a word will show. 
 
 Enlcr Fredeiici, with some papers, ink, and fen. 
 
 F. Your ladyship sent for me. 
 
 D. What have you there ? 
 
 F. Some pajjers for your ladyship to sign. '^ 
 
 D. Set them down on the chair. 
 
 F. I have brought besides 
 
 The settlement for Lady Laura's marriage. 
 
 D. Tliank you : 'tis time I had it. I cannot now 
 -■\ttend 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 ! 
 
 1). To-night. Why not to-night ? 
 
 F. No reason at all. 
 
 ICxcept . . . 
 
 D. Except what ? 
 
 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 tins service. 
 
 D. (aside). Ah, he is hit. 
 
 F. I'd travel to the corners of tlie globe 
 To serve your ladyship : and in a journey 
 So light .as tills, one that would never burden 
 The most unwilling servant, I can beg 
 Without reproach that you will find for once 
 Anotlicr messenger. 
 
 /). What then juevents you ? 
 
 /■'. Good cause enough ; though 'tis not of a nature 
 To welcome question. 
 
 D. There's no person, Frederick, 
 
 That more regards your health, nor more regrets ""' 
 \owt slightest adiug than do I. 1 fear 
 Vou have done u;c wrong concealing from my know- 
 ledge 
 The true slate of your health . . . but if twas kmd- 
 
 ness 
 To spare me anxiety . . .
 
 Act I.] 
 
 The H, 
 
 umours 
 
 of the Court. 
 
 ^55 
 
 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 me 
 Your ladyship will humour me. 
 
 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. (/". gives and D. ivrites.) 
 
 If you fear cold 
 You can close up the coach. The journey is short : 
 'Twill cheer you, and do you good. 
 
 F. (asidf). Curse on my fate. 
 
 How can I escape? AVhat devil hath now possessed 
 
 her 
 To thwart me thus ? And after all my service 
 To insist : so small a matter. 
 
 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. {^athmng 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. 
 
 \E.xit 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 I 
 Suspected of complicity, and thus ^™ 
 
 She would expose us both ? 
 
 Enter Tristram. 
 
 We are both undone. 
 
 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 suspect 
 That 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 ! 
 
 .K coach at six : and be yourself prepared "'" 
 
 To accompany me. 
 
 T, Where go we ? 
 
 Enter R. 
 
 F. To tlie devil. 
 
 Order the horses. 
 
 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 reco;^ui<ed. 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? 
 
 F. Because she bade me post this night to Milan 
 To give this in your hands. I pleaded sickness, '* 
 BegL^ed she would find souie other messenger : 
 Yet she refused. She would trust none but me. 
 
 R. And why, man, if you tho ght 1 was suspected, 
 Did you refuse ? Another messenger 
 Must have betrayed me. 
 
 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 fict is, Richard, 
 I thought 1 was discovered, and lost my head. 
 Laura and I had fixed to meet to-night. ""' 
 
 Our only hope is Higlit : misleadmg others, 
 .She has fallen into a trap : she is bound to marry 
 Tiat 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 adauce ? 
 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 nre 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 1 deceived boasting so crazed a title? 
 What saith she now ? 
 
 F. Ha ! do not break the seal. "-" 
 
 R. Is it not mine ? 
 
 F. She yet might ask it back : 
 
 And 'twould betray us if 1 had tjiven it up. 
 
 R. Yes ; you shall keep it till you start, and then 
 Give it to me. You must tliscover of course 
 That I am away fiom home, and leave the letter. 
 Will not that do ? 
 
 F. Tliis 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. 
 
 Enter St. Nicholas. 
 
 R. Hush 1 see, he comes. 
 
 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 inatter. A letter it is
 
 156 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 /?. Your rival. O heavens ! 
 
 J^. A fool that fortune favours. 
 iP. 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 Ijoth. 'Tis but to start "" 
 
 At the set time, and turn about in the dark. 
 
 jp. Make a pretended journey ? 
 
 H. An expedition 
 
 Some ten miles out and back. 
 
 F. I'll do it, Richard. 
 
 O, you were ever excellent. 
 
 iV. Arrange 
 
 Some practicable stages ; and remember 
 To keep an eye on the time. 
 
 F. Tmst me. 
 
 /f. And, hark ! 
 
 If some night you should make the real journey, 
 Would Laura fly with you ? 
 
 F. Fly where ? 
 
 J?. I'll tell you. 
 
 I have planned the whole thing for you : I put my 
 
 palace 
 \t your command ; my servants shall receive you ; 
 The archbishop maiiy you, and all my friends 
 .\ttend your fete. 
 
 F. You cannot mean it, Richard I 
 
 /{. By heaven, I do : but you must first persuade 
 Your lady to make sail. 
 
 /'. That would be easy, 
 
 With such a port to run for. But how soon ? 
 It could not be to-night. 
 
 H. I need one day 
 
 To warn my. people. Come now to my room. 
 Where we will read this letter. Our success 
 Depends on secrecy. 
 
 /". True. 
 
 /i. Go within : 
 
 To avoid encounter I will follow alone. "" 
 
 /". To your room ? 
 
 i?. Yes. 
 
 /". Which suite arc you in? 
 
 A'. They call it 
 
 One of the Grecian muses. 
 
 /•'. Yes, but which ? 
 
 /". I quite forget. At the end of the corridor. 
 Beyond the tower. 
 
 /". I know. You'll find me there. [E.rif. 
 
 A'. 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 tiling 
 
 I plot to save myself, most helps my friend. [E.xi/. 
 
 Enter Tristram ivith 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 today, — lying on the walk. It 
 was not there 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 
 tomorrow ; 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 nut 
 understand. 
 
 {ReaJs). — "Master of mine ! " — Ha ! tis the lady. 
 
 "Master of mine, remember for pity, 
 IV/iat sobs of fluting lips, wan with dismay," 
 
 Poor thing ! 
 
 " Aiui malison of death, my soulless clay 
 Panteth in thine unspeakable purgat'ry." 
 
 Unspeak'ble ! — that is tmspeakable ; and purgatree! 
 — 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. 
 
 {Enter St. /Nicholas behind.) 
 " Enehaitud long 7ohilom, was I fain to flee ; 
 But thou, 7vith wildered phantom disarray. 
 Nightly disgitised in the blue garb of day, 
 Beseldst the sleep-gates of my melancKly. " *'■' 
 
 Hem! 
 N. {coming fonvard). Tristram, where found you 
 
 that? it was not intended for your reading. 
 7. .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 imporlinence, man : give it me at once. 
 T. Nay ; I have my duty. This belongs to my 
 ma,ster. 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 a
 
 Act II. I.] 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 ^57 
 
 lady ; 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. 
 
 TV. What ridiculous stuff you make of it, Tristrain. 
 'Tis addressed to Love : you do not understand. 
 
 T. Yes : it is love, and court love too : I under- 
 stand that well enough, and I understand that 'tis 
 writ to a man ; therefore 'tis pikestaft'-plain that 'tis 
 writ by a woman : therefore it half follows that you 
 did not write it : and tlierefore 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. 
 
 JV. Nonsense, Tristram : I assure you 'tis mine. 
 
 7". Think not to owl me thus. 
 
 JV. Man ! 1 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 Irom 
 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 tiy to get what belongs to another. You are 
 mistaken. "Master of mine" it says — and would a 
 man write thus? {fie^ins to reaii). 
 
 N. Death ! stop mine ears ! That I should hear 
 my verse 
 Again profaned by thee, thou baseborn clown. 
 
 7'. I read correctly, sir. If you find fault with my 
 reading, 'tis the strangeness of the matter. I h.ave 
 good reasons for not pafting 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 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 skuU 
 'Cause of its wooden thickness, I'll find means 
 To punish thee. 
 
 T. Good d.ay, 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 ! 
 
 ACT I I. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 Night. The garden, at Laura!s windojcs, 
 which are nearly to the ground. L. a 
 wall ivith door in it leading from the 
 park without. Enter by door iti travel- 
 ling costume Frederick, and Tristram 
 
 carrying a small portma7itle. F. stays 
 behind to lock the door. 
 
 T. (coming to front). Here's a journey : twenty 
 miles about and home again : and no lady. Were it 
 not for the letter I found on the path, I should hold to 
 my opinion that it is all a make-believe, and that 
 there is no lady at all : and that my master wrote that 
 first letter to himself, making the appointment to meet 
 himself, . . he returns so pleased, with his head in the 
 air, like the best satisfied lover. I have a fool for my 
 master. He is but a fool, tho' he needs no huniouiing. 
 (To F. who approaches). Well, now we are at home 
 again, sir ; and as it were partly returned to our 
 senses . . . 
 
 F. Silence, Tristram. Take off your boots. 
 
 T. Pray, sir . . . 
 
 F. Not a word. Obey me. "" 
 
 T. Heaven help us ! what is this for ? 
 
 F. Silence. Are they off? 
 
 T. They are coming. 
 
 F. Hark now what you have to do. Cross the 
 grass silently, unlock my door, creep up-stairs like a 
 thief, and sit in my chamber without a movement till 
 I come. 
 
 T. The grass is like a sponge. I have begun to 
 catch cold already : I am just going to sneeze. 
 
 F. Sneeze, and I'll strangle you. 
 
 T. Is this your treatment for all my services ? 
 
 F. Your service is your duty to obey : 
 And once you served me well : of late you are grown 
 Queslionous and prying ; which I have so far borne. 
 Because I have been in doubt whether it were best 
 To thrash you or discharge you. 
 
 T. And no wonder neither. Thus the world will 
 repay devotion. Can I see you so blind to your good 
 fortune, and when heaven's door stands open . . . 
 
 F. Heaven's door ! what is this ? ^* 
 
 T. You do not know. 
 
 F. Say what you mean. 
 
 T. This court, wherein you serve and get no 
 thanks, 
 You might rule and be thanked. 
 
 F. Just as I thought ; 
 
 Ere I dismiss you I shall tell the Countess 
 Your insolence. The whipping you will get 
 Will save me trouble. 
 
 T. I pray you on my knees. 
 
 F. Get up, fool, lest you sneeze. And would you 
 escape 
 Your rich deservings, be off. 
 
 T. Betray me not, sir: I will obey you better. 
 
 F. Silence : go do as I bid you. Begone, and take 
 your boots. \Exit T. 
 
 So my man knows her secret. 'Tis high time 
 That Laura and I were off. This salves my conscience 
 From any scruple. 'Tis a rule of art 
 To make obstructions serve ; and my chief hindrance, 
 Diana's passion, can but urge me on. 
 So the mischance, which drew me hence to-night. 
 Hath brought me hither a more secret way. 
 The night is still. I would there were a wind. 
 And there's the clock. (Clock strikes.) I'll wait 
 Till it hath sounded . . No light . . I'll tap. "■" 
 
 ( Goes to window and taps. Laura comes to windo-.v 
 and opens. )
 
 158 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 I. 
 
 F. Ail's well. 'Tis I. 
 
 L. Frederick, not gone to Milan ? 
 
 F. I escaped but with a thousand torments — 
 May I come in ? 
 
 L. We can talk here. 
 
 F. The night 
 
 Is very still, our voices will be heard : 
 They run along the wall. 
 
 L. Then I'll come out. 
 
 F. We shall be seen. 
 
 L. The maids are all abed. 
 
 There's none to see us ; a)id the moon is clouded. 
 We'll walk by the yew hedije. Give me your hand. 
 
 F. 'Tis but one step. 
 
 X. I know. {Com.s dmtiii.) 
 
 F. My kiss. (Kisses her. ) 
 
 L. O Frederick, »=" 
 
 You have broken your own rule, and kissed me thrice. 
 
 F. One kiss a day, with two days in arrear, 
 Makes three. 
 
 L. Alas ! I thought 'twas love's excess, 
 
 And still I am kissed by rule. 
 
 F. And be content, love. 
 
 To keep the little rules we make ourselves. 
 Since thou must break such great ones; and canst d.<ire 
 Ueceive the Countess, disobey thy father. 
 And brave the world's opinion : all which sins 
 I come to stablish in thee. There's now no choice 
 But fly with me or take St. Nicholas. *^" 
 
 L. Th It name is desperation. Have you no plan 
 To save me ? 
 
 F. If you dare fly with me to Milan. 
 
 L. To-night? 
 
 F. Would 'twere to-night. 
 
 /.. I^ut when, love, when ? 
 
 F. Trust me to find the time. 
 
 L. And why to Milan? 
 
 F. My friend the Puke, being now aw.iy from 
 home, 
 Lends me his palace. All we else should lack, 
 Appointment and conveyance, he supplies. 
 We have his countenance now, his influence after. 
 To appease your father and sister. 
 
 /,. Are you such friends ? 
 
 F. There cannot be two hearts in all the world 
 Nearcr-fnmiliar tiian arc his and mine. 
 
 L. You never told me. 
 
 F. 1 had not heard from him 
 
 Now for three years. 
 
 L. 'Tis strange. 
 
 F, Nay, 'tis not strange. 
 
 Ours was a boyhood friendshi]> ; such affection 
 B irn in life's spring is perfect with the flower. 
 The menjory is a binding intimacy. 
 Which glows as we grow from it : in its strength 
 Is our lost tenderness ; its truth is i>roved 
 By every lie the world has given our hopes : 
 A!)sence ant] age best feed it. Wc remember """ 
 
 First ecstasies, and the unreserved embrace 
 Of mutual spirits, and worship the remembrance. 
 The Duke and I are strangers in the world. 
 Courteous ac'|uainlance in society, 
 But to ourselves, twin individual gods. 
 
 /.. Alas, poor me 1 
 
 F. Can it displease you, love, 
 
 I have such a friend ? 
 
 /.. Ere it is too late, Frederick, 
 
 Think if you love me enough. 
 
 F. Why, 'tis a question 
 
 To make me think you think I think I do not. 
 
 L. Indeed, ere I consent to be your wife . . . "" 
 
 F. You have consented, Laura. 
 
 L. Nay, but hear me. 
 
 Before we marry, you must know a thing. 
 Which, since it might lessen your love for me. 
 Shall not be kept till after. 
 
 F. Then tell it quickly. 
 
 L. What you have said, and what I have to tell, 
 So dwarfs my little humble plant of love. 
 
 F. Tell it. 
 
 L. Diana loves you. 
 
 F. Vou know it too ! 
 
 L. You know it I 
 
 F. I !— Why, Lama, is this your secret? 
 
 L. I see you have guessed it ; yet, perhaps, for 
 thinking 
 Thou sliouklst be loyal where thy faith is cherished, 
 Tliou hast never weighed her claim with mine ; and 
 
 that 
 I'd have thee do. Look to thine interest : 
 For loving women dilfer not so much 
 I)ut all may m.ike good wives ; and whatsoe'er 
 Thou thinkest to see in me, I-'rederick, 1 am sure 
 1 lack all excellence. There's nothing in me 
 Why I should have preferment o'er another, 
 And least of all of her who can bo.ast loveliness 
 To match her love ; and add those other gifts, 
 Wliich are necessities to one like thee. '**"^ 
 
 Thou, wiih high friendships shouklst have power and 
 
 station, 
 .■\nd lilted for the fiiircst use of wcallli. 
 Thou art wronged in the want of it : and. Love, 1 
 
 love thee 
 So better than myself, that I would see thee 
 I lappily another's ralhcr than my own 
 With the reproach of selfishness, the knowledge 
 That thou wert sacrificed for my poor love. 
 
 F. If women diflcr little, what of men ? 
 St. Nicholas loves you, and would give you rank. 
 
 L. Thou knowst thou wrongst me, Fiedeiick, 
 turning thus '"-" 
 
 .My love of thee to banter of my love. 
 
 F. I only banter where you dare be grave. 
 
 /,. Because thou knowest. Love, I desire noi 
 wealth. 
 My happiness would be to live with thee 
 And for thee : but to thee what can 1 bring? 
 Think not because I wish ihce fortunate, 
 That I forget my hope, or slight the treasure 
 .So much dcsiii'd of my loving soul. 
 
 /•'. .'\n(l for that loving soul you bid me take 
 .Some fifty thousand ducats by the year, '""' 
 
 .\ major ilonio, and a luap of things 
 That are a proverb for their emptiness ! 
 
 /,. Diana's love, I said ; that with the ducats. 
 
 F. Well, what doth all this come to when 'lis 
 told ? 
 I'iist is Diana's love. Diana's love 
 Is nothing, for I do not love Diana. 
 Next arc the ducats ; hfly thouvand ducats. 
 They arc nothing either — liy the year 1 Why, Laura, 
 Were 't fifty thousand ducats by the day
 
 Act II. I.] 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 159 
 
 'Twere nolliing to me. You can little guess """ 
 
 My prodigal soul. I should expend it all 
 And sit at home and he as poor as ever. 
 L. How could you spend so much ? 
 F. Nothing is much. 
 
 Man's capabilities being infinite 
 And his state pitiful, the simplest scheme 
 For bettering any faculty lie halh, 
 Would eat up all the money in the world. 
 
 L. But to use riches rightly— 
 F. I have no desire 
 
 That earth can satisfy, but one ; and that 
 Shall I play false to ? 
 
 L. Nay ; I trust you well. '"™ 
 
 />'. Then waste no more the precious moments, 
 Laura, 
 To question the great blessing we enjoy. 
 Our hours will all be as this hour to-night ; 
 Either to step with in eternity 
 Towards our perfection with un\i'avering will. 
 Or with a questioning purpose let it slide, 
 And leave us far behind. A man's desires 
 Are his companions and by them he is known ; 
 But he himself is what he grows to be 
 Using his time. 
 
 L. How best to use it now? 
 
 F. First to assure thee, dearest, that all the joys 
 I have had or hoped are nothing to thy love. 
 And next, that we may make it sure, I ask thee 
 To say thou'lt fly with me. 
 
 L. When, Frederick, when ? 
 
 I fear 'twill never be ; we have but two days. 
 
 F. Therefore be ready at any moment, Laura. 
 All's fixed except the time : that must depend 
 Upon occasion. If I cannot see thee, 
 Ricardo, whom I have made my confidant. 
 Will bring thee word. Fie cannot be suspected, """ 
 And thou mayst trust him. 
 
 L. Dare I tell my father? 
 
 F. That's my chief scruple ; and yet we dare not 
 tell him. 
 If only Providence would give him back 
 His hearing for one day ! After one day 
 Spent with St. Nicholas, I should not fear 
 To broach our matter. 
 
 L. He has the marriage contract 
 
 Ready to sign. 
 
 F. Not as he thinks. By luck 
 
 They entrusted it to me ; and as I have drawn it 
 He cannot sign it. He must give it me lack, 
 And that will make delay. 
 
 L. Of all these chances. 
 
 If any one go wrong . . . 
 
 F. All will go well. 
 
 See, here's my portrait, Laura, which I promised : 
 'Tis framed like yours ; that is its only merit. 
 
 L. O, let me have it. 
 
 F. Take it. That you should care 
 
 To look upon it, makes me ashamed. 
 
 /.. O, Frederick ! 
 
 If you knew all my fiolishness, I think 
 You would despise me. By this little light 
 I can see nothing. Is't weil done? 
 
 F. So, so. 
 
 It flatters me : but that's the artist's trick. 
 
 /-. Flatters you 1 
 
 F. Well, it taints me with the fashion, '"»" 
 
 Which is the vulgar dress of imitalions, 
 And a less blunder than mere naked skill. 
 The individual ideals are given 
 To genius only. 
 
 L. I would have had you painted 
 
 Just as you are. 
 
 F. Nay. — Hark ! I hear a step . . . 
 
 L. What can we do? 
 
 F. Some one is coming hither. 
 
 L. Where can we hide ? 
 
 F. I cannot think ; unless 
 
 You creep along the hedf;e. I'll wait and see 
 Who 'tis. I think it must be Tristram. [Exit Laura. 
 
 Enter Ricardo. 
 
 R- Frederick I 
 
 F. Richard ! what is the matter? 
 
 ■^'- Forgive my coming : 
 
 But if you wish it thought that you are at Milan, 
 Your room should not be lighted, and your servant 
 Should not be singing. 
 
 F. Singing !— is Tristram singing? 
 
 R. Hark! You may hear. [T.'s lute heard faintly. 
 
 F. By heaven ! — the wretch ! Tell Laura 
 Why I am gone. All will be lost. [Exit. 
 
 R. Indeed, 
 
 Unle'.s Di.ana is sleeping very soundly, 
 The escapade's betrayed. 
 
 Re-enter Laura. 
 
 My service, lady. 
 
 L. I heard you speak with Frederick, sir, and 
 thank you 
 For your kind offices. 
 
 R. I need no thanks. 
 
 I have a deeper interest in your weliare "'" 
 
 Than you can guess. I fear that fellow Tristram 
 May ruin us all. 
 
 L. Frederick hath told me, sir, 
 
 You know our secret, and will act between ns ; 
 For which I thank you. I bid you now good-night : 
 I should go in. 
 
 R. As soon as possible. 
 
 Pray you be not observed. But first I beg you 
 Thank me for Frederick's visit. 
 
 L. You, sir ! why ? 
 
 R. Why, but for me he had been at Milan. 
 
 L. Ah I 
 
 I thank you very much. 
 
 R. He doth not scheme 
 
 Well for himself. He needs a wife. 
 
 L. Indeed "» 
 
 I cannot scheme. 
 
 R. And 'tis the fairer wish 
 
 You neither may have ever need. Good-night. 
 
 Z. Good-night, sir. [E.xit in at window. 
 
 R. She's a good creature, quick and sensible ; 
 
 She'll fly with Frederick. It provokes my soul 
 That that conceited inconsiderate loon 
 Should put us all in peril. I have half a mind 
 To take him in my pay. 
 
 Re-enter F. with a lute. 
 F. Is Laura gone ? 
 
 R. And not too soon. If your fine musical man
 
 i6o 
 
 The Humours of the Court. [Act II. i, 
 
 Have waked the Countesfshe may have heard you too. 
 He is silenced now, I hope. 
 
 F. Here's his curst lute : '"» 
 
 I took it from him. 
 
 /". Ha ! then give it to me. 
 
 The ver)' thing. I'll step into the gap, 
 And take the blame of this untimely singing 
 Upon myself. Go in and leave me here : 
 And if to-morrow any ask who 'twas 
 That played and sang at midnight — why 'twas I. 
 Go in. 
 
 /'. Well, bravo, Richard : you're a genius. 
 
 R. Leave me. 
 
 F. I go. Good-night. [Exit. 
 
 R. Now must I sing. 
 
 And when there's none to hear I am sometimes able 
 To please myself: else I must ask indulgence. 
 
 Sings. 
 My eyes for beauty pine, 
 My soul for Goddes grace : 
 No other hope nor care is mine ; 
 To heaven I turn my face. 
 
 One splendour thence is shed 
 From all the stars above : 
 'Tis named when God's name is said, 
 'Tis love, 'tis heavenly love. 
 
 And every gentle heart. 
 That burns with true desire, "'" 
 
 Is lit from eyes that mirror part 
 Of that celestial fire. 
 
 N. {hiard entering unseen). Very sweet ! 
 
 R. {aside). I la ! have I an audience after all ? 
 
 N. Ricardo, I believe. 
 
 R. St. Nicholas, is't not ? 
 
 N. Your lute, sir, as Amphion drew the trees 
 Up by the roots, hath drawn me from my bed. 
 
 R. Would I could make the lyrical apology 
 With which, I doubt not, he replanted them. 
 
 N. Nay, no apology. And, to say truth, 
 'Twas not so much your music as my wish 
 To catch the singer brought me out. I thought 
 'Twas Frederick's servant. He should not forget it 
 If I should catch him breaking rules. 
 
 R. I hope 
 
 I break no rules. 
 
 A'. You see you are very near 
 
 The ladies' windows. 
 
 R. True : of course I must be. 
 
 N. And serenading is among tlie ofl'ences 
 Punished with diet. 
 
 R. Being a stranger, sir, 
 
 I cannot be suspected of the knowledge 
 That might incriminate me. You, no doubt, 
 Are more familiar. 
 
 N. Yes, there is one window "™ 
 
 Which I should know : and as you chance to stand 
 Just underneath it, I will not dissemble 
 That when I saw you first I felt the pangs 
 Of maddening jealousy. To find 'twas you 
 Relieved me entirely. 
 
 R. Nay then, truly, sir, 
 
 I owe you apology : for if yo\ir mistress 
 Should have mistook my falala for yours. 
 The poor performance may have hurt your credit. 
 
 N. Nay, sir, I sing so seldom, I only fear 
 I cannot be suspected. If I might "*" 
 
 I'd ask you sing again. There's nought affects me 
 Like music in the moonlight. 
 
 R. I would oblige you 
 
 But for the rules you speak of. Were't not better 
 We should go in ? 'tis midnight. 
 
 N. Oh, I could sit 
 
 And sigh beneath that window all the night. 
 Is there not wondrous softness in the thought. 
 That she one loves is sleeping ? 
 
 R. I will leave you 
 
 To your love thouglits. 
 
 N. Nay, nay, no reason, sir. 
 
 I have full leisure for sweet meditation. 
 I will go in with you- 'Tis a rich comfort 
 To dream of the beloved. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 On the terrace, in front of the Jiouse. Enter 
 Diana and Ricardo. Flora attending 
 Diana. 
 
 D. What time is't, sir? 
 
 R. I heard the bells of the town 
 
 Strike ten but now. 
 
 D. Ah ! you can hear the bells. 
 
 Because they are strange to you. I note them most 
 The days they miss . . And so 'tis only ten . . . 
 I hope you are comfortable here, Ricardo : 
 Gregory took care of you ? The clocks for example 
 Did not disturb your rest ? 
 
 R. Your ladyship 
 
 Means to reproach me with late hours : but if 
 I had thought my singing could be heard . . . '°<"' 
 
 D. ■ Your singing ? 
 
 How musical the world is now-a-days — 
 Yet I heard not your singing. 
 
 R, I am very glad : 
 
 I feared I had offended. For myself 
 I can assure you that though some things here 
 Ren.ind me of Milan, where the Duke . . . 
 
 D. Remember, 
 
 Speak not to me of Milan. 
 
 R. A thousand pardons, 
 
 I am schooled to hide my thoughts, and shall obey : 
 Tho' in your sight they wander to the duke. 
 Who for that grace in such sad sickness pines. 
 A lord so loving, and so fair a lady. 
 Would she be also kind, — would make their courtiers 
 As envied as themselves. 
 
 D. Enough, forget him. 
 
 But say you that he is really sick, Ricardo? 
 
 R. Hopelessly he languishes. I do not think 
 He is long for this world. 
 
 D. So consumed with folly ! 
 
 R. I too thought th.at his love was folly, lady. 
 Till I came here : but now I know he is wise. 
 
 D. I half suspect he sent you here to try me 
 With soft insinuations. 
 
 R. 'Twcre his wish 
 
 I do not doubt : although he spake no word '"" 
 
 That I could wrest to such instruction, madam. 
 
 D. \'ou serve him well. 
 
 R. May all your servants ever
 
 Act II. 2.] 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 i6i 
 
 Love you as I do him. Yet that's too much. 
 
 D. 'Tisall too much. But I can truly boast 
 I have very faitliful servants. There's sir Gregory : 
 I think you could not better him ;it Milan. 
 What say you ? 
 
 R. .Sir Gregory is (he very mirror 
 
 Of knightly reverence. 
 
 D. He is sadly deaf. 
 
 Then there's my secretary. 
 
 R. Your secretary ? 
 
 D. Frederick. 
 
 R. Ah, Frederick : on so short acquaintance 
 How can I judge? 
 
 D. You have a faculty '^' 
 
 Of observation, which I am pleased to prove : 
 Besides, since you are a stranger, — as you note 
 Our clocks,- — your eyes, no doubt, while yet they are 
 
 fresh. 
 Will pounce upon a thousand little things, 
 Which we are blind to, seeing every day. 
 Tell nie your first impression. 
 
 R. Your ladyship 
 
 Would never task me thus, but in security 
 Of finding perfect praise. I'll rather think 
 You ask me my opinion, as do poets, 
 To judge of my capacity. 
 
 D. Nay, nay. 
 
 Nor will I force your flattery. Speak your mind. 
 I hold him not in wondrous estimation. 
 What of his person ? 
 
 R. He has a good deportment, 
 
 Yet stoops a little. 
 
 D. You have a soldier's eye. 
 
 He is tall, and hath the scholar's negligence. 
 A martial stiffness were mucli out of place. 
 
 R. True : and his open grace seems less a manner 
 Than very nature ; being itself unlinked 
 With any distant bearing. 
 
 D. Now you teach me. "'" 
 
 You might have known him long to hit him so. 
 Have you talked with him much? 
 
 R. Enough to prove him 
 
 A most ingenious gentleman. 
 
 D. Ah ! — ingenious ! 
 
 Ingenious ; — that is a doubtful word. 
 You do not mean contriving? 
 
 Enter F. and T. in their troTelling costume as 
 before. 
 
 R. See, madam : 'tis he that comes. 
 [Aside.) Her love is but a fancy ; else would she never 
 Provoke discussion on him, and seek to jjraise him. — 
 
 D. Frederick : returned so soon ! — miraculous. 
 Such expedition. Thou canst scarce have rested. 
 'Tis two hours ere thy time. 
 
 F. 'Twas my good-fortune '-"<' 
 
 To meet no hindrance. 
 
 V. But thy health, good servant ; 
 
 Thy sickness ? 
 
 F. Madam, let my quick despatch 
 
 Bury my late reluctance. I confess 
 I was unreasonable. Indeed, the journey 
 Hath quite restored my spirits. 
 
 L). Yes, so it seems. 
 
 I hoped that it might be so. Hast thou my answer? 
 
 F. 'Tis here. {Handing letter. ) 
 
 D. Thou must have roused the Duke from sleep. 
 
 F. 'Twas such an hour as one might look to find 
 A duke a-bed 
 
 D. And he was not ? Pray, tell us 
 
 Exactly how he was employed. 
 
 F. I chanced 
 
 To find him banqueting in merry company ; 
 Such as make war on night, and march their force 
 Across the frontier, for a long campaign 
 In the enemy's country. 
 
 D, {to R.). Banqueting, you hear. 
 
 And at that hour. 
 
 F. All night they kept it up. 
 
 D.{ioR.). Hark you. 
 
 R. I hear and wonder. {To F.). Say you, sir. 
 The Duke was merry, that he held a feast 
 Within the palace ? 
 
 F. {aside). Heavens ! — how I have blundered I 
 Nay, sir, I said not so : I said expressly. 
 Or should have said, he was another's guest. ■'*' 
 
 R. And yet I have never known him . . . 
 
 F. Indeed 'tis true : 
 
 He said to me himself those very words. 
 I have never known myself do this, he said. 
 
 7'. {aside). Now, they are at their fooling again, 
 and not a single word of any sense. 'Tis enough to 
 drive a man mad with bewilderment. 
 
 R. (to D.). To plunge into distraction so unwonted 
 Argues despair. Grave men use dissipation 
 To drown their misery. 
 
 D. No doubt : and yet 
 
 Answer not for him. 
 
 F. True it is, my lady. 
 
 He did confess as much to me a stranger. 
 Despair ; — that was his word. He seemed, withal, 
 Wondrously put out at all I chanced to say : 
 And very :>ick he looked. 
 
 T. {aside). Madness and lies ! I'll hear no more 
 of this. {Goes aside to Flora.) 
 
 D. It seems that dissipation 
 Agrees not with grave men. 
 
 R. Heaven smite me dead 
 
 If I protest not 'gainst the wrong you do him. 
 
 D. So hot ! — Well, thrash this out between your- 
 selves : 
 'Tis nought to me. And, Frederick, when you have 
 
 dressed. 
 Rested, and breakfasted, attend me here. """ 
 
 I thank you for your service. 
 
 F. You are welcome, madam, 
 
 To all such offices. {Going.) 
 
 D. Please leave your servant. 
 
 I have some papers ready indoors to send you. 
 
 F. I thank you. \Exit. 
 
 R. I crave permission : I would follow 
 
 To ask of my particular affairs ; 
 How they are spoke of whence he conies. 
 
 D. {bowing permission). I hope 
 
 You will hear good. 
 
 R. {aside, going). My Frederick needs fresh 
 prompting. 
 He is so preoccupied in his own love, 
 That I am forgotten. \Exit. 
 
 Diana opens the letter.
 
 l62 
 
 The Hiimmtrs nf the Court. 
 
 [Act II. 2. 
 
 T. {lo FL, showing and shaking piine). Look 
 _ here ! Listen liere ! 
 
 /v. AVhat have you there? 
 
 T. Money, — ducats: all ducats. 
 
 D. (r<;ading aloud). ' ' / could not have chosen, 
 among all my friends, on; more discreet and senice- 
 ahle than is Ricardo. There is nothing so difficult 
 that he has not experience for it . , . nothing so 
 private but that he mav not luell be trusted loith it 
 . . . He has been accustomed to manage all my 
 affairs ..." 
 
 Fl. {to T.). But where did you get them, Tristram ? 
 
 T. Ah ! She gave them me. 
 
 Fl. The Countess ! What for? "=» 
 
 T. Secrets : and there's more where they came 
 from . 
 
 Fl. More secrets, or more ducats? 
 
 T. Both, — plenty of both. 
 
 Fl. How nice for us. 
 
 T. Us! Who d'you mean by us? 
 
 Fl. I mean when we are married, Tristram. 
 
 T. Married, say you, now ? I thought you had 
 not promised. 'When I had no money you hung off. 
 Now you see me as rich as Plutarch, you're quick 
 enough. But it's a hoax. I filled this bag with 
 curtain-rings to deceive you : and where are you 
 now? 
 
 Fl. O, Tristram, let me see. 
 
 D. Tristram I 
 
 T. Your ladyship ! 
 
 £>. I'll speak with you. 
 
 Flora, depart. [Fxit p'lora. 
 
 Now, Tristram, tell me shortly, 
 What you have learned. 
 
 T. I have found a letter, madam. 
 
 Writ by the lady, {fumbles for it.) 
 
 D. Indeed ! — that is good news. '**' 
 
 Nothing could please me better. In so short ;ime 
 This is done excellently. Who is she, Tristram ? 
 
 T. I think she is chained up somewhere in the 
 court. 
 
 D. Chained in the court ! What mean you? 
 
 T. Here 'lis, my lady : 
 
 Read for yourself, {giving.) 
 
 D. Why this is poetry ; 
 
 And in St. Nicholas' hand. 
 
 T. I hope and trust 
 
 Your ladyship will not take his part. 
 
 D. His part ! 
 
 What does this mean ? 
 
 T. I picked that up in the garden : 
 
 .St. Nicholas found me with it, and s.iid 'twas his. 
 I stood by it firmly 'twas the lady's piece, "'" 
 
 .\iid written to my master. lie called me a thief; 
 And if your ladyship . . . 
 
 D. Stay, Tristr.^m, stay. 
 
 This paper is nothing : take it, and right yourself. 
 As best you are able, with St. Nicholas . . . 
 Tell me now all tliat liappened on the journey 
 I sent you last night with your master. 
 
 7". Your ladyship 
 
 Sent him? 
 
 D. Of course. I sent you botli to Milan. 
 When did you arrive there? 
 
 T. At Milan 1 Is't possible 
 
 Your ladyship sliouKl tiiink 1 Iiave been to Milan? 
 
 D. Not been to Milan? 
 
 T. Me! 
 
 D. You accompanied ''*" 
 
 Your master? 
 
 7. I did. 
 
 D. {holding R.'s letter). And he has been to 
 Milan. 
 
 T. It's true, your ladyship, I understand 
 Nothing my master says, and very little 
 Of what you sny to him : and if you say 
 He 'as been to Milan, I'll not meddle with it. 
 But if you say that I have been to Milan, 
 I am very much deceived. I do not like 
 That any man should think such things of me ; 
 That I can go and not go, and be here 
 And there at once. 
 
 D. Stay, Tristram ; tell me plainly 
 
 All that your master has done since yesterday. 
 
 T. Well, first I found him with .another letter, 
 All sighs and groans : then suddenly he bade me 
 Order the horses, and prepare myself 
 To drive with him to the devil at six o'clock. 
 At six we started on the Milan road 
 And came by dark to Asti ; there we changed 
 Both horses and postilions and drove on : 
 And after three hours' jolting, when I guessed 
 We should be nearing Milan, the coach stopped "*" 
 In a ferny glade, and we got out ; and then 
 I saw we were at Belflor, and the trees 
 Were in your ladyship's park. 
 
 D. Ah ! Then what did he ? 
 
 T. Came in and locked the gate of the park 
 behind us, 
 .\nd sent me on to his room, and b.ade me wait 
 Till he should come. 
 
 />. What hour was that? 
 
 T. Eleven. 
 
 D. {aside). The hour, no doubt, when he should 
 meet his mistress — 
 When came he in ? 
 
 T. By midnight. 
 
 A He locked the gate . . . 
 
 The lady is in the palace. 
 
 '/'. .So he pretends. 
 
 D. He let slip nothing on the journey? 
 
 T. He lit 
 
 A pocket lamp, and sat, mute as a fish, 
 Counting the minutes on his w.atch ; and then, 
 As if it sei"ved as well to tell tlie time. 
 He fetched the jewelled portrait from his breast, 
 And gazed on that. 
 
 D. A portrait ? 
 
 7'. Certainly. 
 
 /). Carries he a portrait, say you ? 
 
 7". Certainly. 
 
 F>. You know not who 'tis of? 
 
 T. Not I, my lady. 
 
 /?. Could you get sight of it ? 
 
 7'. Impossible. 
 
 At night 'tis ncath his pillow, and .all the day 
 He keeps it in a little special pocket '*"" 
 
 In his doublet here, just under his heart ; or if 
 He jMills it out, he holds it by his chin 
 Where none may see. 
 
 D. You shotild have told me of this,
 
 Act II. 2.] 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 163 
 
 This portrait : have you no guess who 'lis of? 
 
 T. I guess 'tis part of the pretence, my lady ; 
 For when the fit is on he'll talk to it : 
 And once I saw him kiss it. 
 
 D. Thank you, Tristram. 
 
 Take now these papers to your master at once 
 And tell him . . . 
 
 T. {goino). I will, your ladyship. 
 
 D. Stay yet . . . 
 
 This letter which he brought me, did you see "'" 
 
 Whence he procured it ? 
 
 T. I suppose, my lady, 
 
 He wrote it himself, no doubt of it. Where else 
 Should he have got it ? 
 
 D. Tell Ricardo, Tristram, 
 
 I wish to see him here, at once. Your master 
 May wait on me at noon. 
 
 T. About that gentleman . . . 
 
 D. Begone, and do my bidding. [Exit T. 
 
 They have met in spite of me — they have met: and he 
 Hath dared to disobey me and lie to my face. 
 Who can it be ? who is she ? she is in my house. . . 
 Ah! what a prey I have netted ! One of my maids. . . 
 One of my maids, it must be . . O detestation ! 
 And he hath her portrait. Ah, he loves, he loves. 
 The love that taught me to dissemble and scheme 
 Hath taught him to meet plot with counterplot. — 
 Frederick, dear Frederick ! 'tis unworthy of you : 
 This is too hard upon me . . I loved you well. 
 Shame, shame, shame, shame! Indeed he cannot know 
 How mucli I love him . . he cannot. Am I too old 
 At twenty-seven? out-matched ! I had taken too 
 This letter for the Duke's. Ho ! the insolence 
 To assume his fulsomeness ! to forge in terms 
 Of a humble obedient lover, so he might 
 Keep tryst with . . O shame, shame I and then to 
 
 write it 
 He must have broke my seal, and read my letter — 
 He has gone too far : here is a slip in honour 
 Which 1 may work on. I'll not give him up. 
 Not yet. He can be shamed : and first I'll prove 
 The forgery, and then wring confession from him. 
 'Tis well I have at hand so trusty a witness. 
 
 Enter Ricardo. 
 
 R. ■your ladyship sent for me. 
 
 D. I did, Ricardo. '«» 
 
 In answer to the favour, which most gladly 
 I do you at the Duke's request, I beg 
 A service for myself. 
 
 R. My honoured master 
 
 Commands me, lady ; and you command my master. 
 I am twice yours. 
 
 D. Again ! well — Look at this ! 
 
 Is this your famous master's writing ? Look. 
 You know it? {giving letter.) 
 
 R. As my own. 
 
 D. Is that then his ? 
 
 R. It is, 
 
 And writ his best. 
 
 D. Why, 'tis a forgery, 
 
 And you are deceived. 
 
 R. Nay, 'tis no forgery. 
 
 D. You are certain ? 
 
 R. Certain. 
 
 D. You may re.ad it through. 
 
 Though 'tis about yourself. Examine it well, "" 
 
 If 'tis authentic. You will only find 
 Prodigal praise to make you blush. 
 
 R. {aside-}. No wonder 
 
 If I do blush, faced with my own device. 
 {aloud, giving back.) I'll strive to make this good. 
 
 D. And 'tis his hand ? 
 
 R. It is. 
 
 D. I am glad, because it came as answer 
 To a letter I wrote but yesterday, and gave 
 To Frederick, ordering him to ride to Milan 
 And give it the Duke. This morning, as you saw, 
 He hands me this. His servant who was with him 
 Tells me that he has not been to Milan at all, 
 But slept in the court. 
 
 R. {aside). Pest on that sneaking dolt ! 
 
 D. What say you now ? 
 
 R. May he not have used some other messenger? 
 I had my doubts when he brought in his tale, 
 That history of the banquet. — Did I not say 
 The Duke was wronged ? 
 
 D. True, true ; and tho' I am glad 
 
 He is quit of forgery, he is not of lying. 
 What can I think ? 
 
 /'. I thought your ladyship ''"'^ 
 
 Trusted in Frederick wholly. When this morning 
 You praised him to me . . . 
 
 D. Praised him ! stay, I beg : 
 
 I praised him not, save to draw words from you. 
 And you described him well ; did not you say 
 He was contriving ? 
 
 R. Then you trust him not ? 
 
 D. See how he acts. Ah, if I told you all ! 
 And yet to tell argues much confidence. . . . 
 
 {R. is silent and D. continues.) 
 I have strange sympathies, affinities. 
 Magnetic or electric it may be. 
 Which rule my trust and liking : if all feel them 
 I cannot say : in me they are intimations 
 Of supernatural efficacy : I find 
 My first impressions never prompt me wrong. 
 Some men I see only to avoid, — You know 
 A strong example of that ; — on the other hand 
 There are some faces, — eyes, I think, — that draw me 
 At first encounter ; so that I often fancy 
 There must be a subtle emanation thrown 
 By the spirit, as light from fire. Now yesterday 
 W^hen I saw you, I felt the secret shock 
 Which told me I was in presence of a soul "'"' 
 
 In harmony with mine, one I could trust, 
 If I should need a friend : and when I wrote 
 To the Duke, it was not that my judgment wanted 
 The assurance which his letter gives. I knew 
 How it would be. — I hardly think, Ricardo, 
 That, had I asked for his own character. 
 Your master could have writ more praise. 
 
 R. I wish 
 
 To please my lady, as I have pleased the Duke. 
 I have kept his secrets. 
 
 D. I shall tell you mine. 
 
 Frederick hath had for some time an intrigue '""' 
 
 With a lady — you understand — a liberty 
 I never have allowed, nor will : besides 
 In him 'tis most intolerable . . . 
 Now yesterday it chanced I came to learn
 
 164 
 
 77(e Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act II. 2. 
 
 He had made appointment with this certain person 
 To meet by night : I know not who she is ; 
 But, wishing to prevent it, I contrived 
 To send him on my message to the Duke ; 
 With what result you have iieartl. 
 
 J\. The Duke, my lady, 
 
 Is the only gainer here. 
 
 D. And are not you ? "'" 
 
 a. Yes, I too, if I am raised in your esteem. 
 
 D. Then you most help me. 
 
 Ji. I can truly vouch 
 
 Your ladyship has read my heart and soul. 
 I feel heaven-drawn to serve you to the death. 
 What is't to do? 
 
 D. Only seek out this matter 
 
 For me ; discover who this lady is. 
 Yor private reasons I feel justified 
 In using any means to learn the truth 
 Dishonestly held from me by my servant : 
 And so I have questioned Tristram. He assures me 
 They met last night : but he is profoundly dull, 
 .\nd not in Frederick's confidence. 
 
 H. Has he no notion 
 
 How Frederick got this letter? 
 
 D. No. 
 
 Ji. Nor a hint 
 
 Of this mysterious lady ? 
 
 D. He cannot help you. 
 
 Ji. Your ladyship must have a near suspicion. 
 
 D. Only a suspicion that's unfit to tell. 
 
 Enter Laura. 
 Here is my sister, whom I wish to question. 
 Come to me soon again ; I have meanwhile 
 Myself a stroke to play. When we next meet 
 I may know more. 
 
 A'. Your most devoted servant. '^'' 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 D. Good morning, dearest Laura. 
 
 L. Good morning, sister. 
 
 D. Did you sleep well last night ? 
 
 /,. I slept till nine. 
 
 D. What liour went you to bed ? 
 
 L. Not very late . . . 
 
 /J. Nay : but what hour? — before eleven? 
 
 L. (aside). What's this? 
 
 Are we discovered ? 
 
 D. Was it before eleven ? 
 
 Z. I cannot tell. Why do you ask, Diana? 
 What is it h.as ha|)pened ? 
 
 I}. Answer me, I beg. 
 
 And you shall know. About tliat hour of the night 
 Did you hear any noise ? 
 
 /,. {asii/e). Kicardo's singing. — 
 What kind of noise ? 
 
 D. Why, any noise, between '"" 
 
 Eleven and midnight. 
 
 /.. Did you licar a noise ? 
 
 D. No : but did you ? 
 
 /.. O no : I heard no noise. 
 
 What made you think there was a noise? 
 
 D. I liavc reason. 
 
 Z. Was there a robbery ? 
 D. Nay : no robbery. 
 
 And yet there was, Laura, a robbery : 
 Of honour, — our honour, — of woman's honour. 
 
 Laura, thou knowest the sacredness of love : 
 
 Love is the one thing in the work! whicli women 
 
 Must guard from profanation ; for by love 
 
 They rule ; and if they trifle with their power, '*" 
 
 They come to be men's chattels, not their queens. 
 
 Tliou'lt soon be married, Laura, and I can talk 
 
 Freely of these things : I have taught thee the 
 
 religious 
 And philosophic doctrines ; but to-day 
 We deal with facts. And first, then, I rejoice 
 Thy husband w'ill be a man whom thou wilt rule, 
 One who adores thee reverently, who holds 
 Of love, as I, and with some special fancy : — 
 He is quite a poet. — Why, now, shouldst thou smile? 
 Thou hast no taste in poetry, but suppose 
 St. Nicholas had lacked tliat inner sight. 
 Had fancied thee merely because he tliought thee 
 A fine girl, and had used the common tricks 
 Of odious trifling, till he dared to kiss thee, 
 And meet thee alone, and put his arm about 
 thee . . . 
 
 Z. Good heavens, Diana ! I hope you do not 
 think 
 He has ever done so. 
 
 D. No : of course he wouldn't. 
 
 But 'tis a fact men do such things ; and that 
 Not with one woman only. And 'tis true 
 That there are ladies who admit the addresses '•'" 
 Of moie than one man. 
 
 L. O Diana ! 
 
 D. Indeed, 
 
 'Tis true : and women are to blame if men 
 Make them their sport. Thou'rt shocked : but 'tis a 
 
 fact 
 That this detested pestilence invades 
 Earth's every nook : my palace doors and bolts. 
 My strong precautions, my well-known regard 
 For strictness, my injunctions, my example. 
 Cannot expel it. 
 
 Z. Pray, Diana, tell me 
 
 What it is : you frighten me. Was any caught 
 Breaking the rules, or is it but suspicion ? 
 
 I). Of the two criminals, tlic man 1 know, 
 The woman 1 know not ; but il I knew her, 
 I am in the mood to kill her. 
 
 Z. (asiile). Thank heaven, she iloes not guess 
 me — 
 
 Who is the man? 
 
 D. Better not ask ; it matters not to thee : 
 But thou canst help me find this erring Eve. 
 If thou'st observed in any one of the maids 
 Conscious behaviour, scrupulous regard 
 To petty adornment, or, what most betrays. 
 An inconsider.ate blushing . . . 
 
 Z. (aiuh-). The maids, she says ! """ 
 
 One of the maids ! Good heavens ! — 
 
 Z>. Marcela : 
 
 Could it be she? She is handsome. 
 
 Z. 'Tis not she : 
 
 .She tells me all her secrets. 
 
 V. Dorothy ? 
 
 Z. I do not think it. 
 
 D. Katharine? 
 
 Z. No, not Kate. 
 
 D. I'll find the Ir.aitress out. 
 
 Z. (asiiie). To save myself
 
 Act 11. 2.] 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 ^65 
 
 I had best fall in with this. 
 
 jO. What do you say ? 
 
 Z. I have not a suspicion, — but . . . 
 
 D. But what ? 
 
 What ? 
 
 L. If there's any one who might be charged 
 With levity. . . 
 
 £>. Who is it ? 
 
 L. You'll not be angry, 
 
 Diana? 
 
 D. Nay : but tell me. 
 
 L. I should say, """> 
 
 If there's one frivolous, and more than others 
 Unapt to profit by the rules . . . 
 
 Z). 'Tis who ? 
 
 L. I think 'tis your own maid. 
 
 D. Flora?— pooh! pooh! 
 
 Flora's almost a hoyden. 
 
 L. [aside). How stupid of me ! 
 
 D. They meet at night, Laura : unless he dares 
 To pass my chamber-door, 'tis in the garden. 
 Your window looks that way. I thought last night 
 You might have heard them. 
 
 /. Why, it's veiy unlikely 
 
 I should hear through the window. 
 
 D. Still, your window 
 
 Gives you an opportunity to watch. '*"' 
 
 You could step out and hide in the garden. 
 
 L. Alone? 
 
 D. I would not ask my sister to play spy. 
 If it were possible that any scandal 
 Dared with its spotted finger point at her. 
 
 L. But who is the man, Diana? 
 
 D. If I tell,— 
 
 And you must know, — promise you will not breathe it. 
 
 L. You need not ask. 
 
 D. 'Tis Frederick. 
 
 L. Frederick ! 
 
 Incredible ! 
 
 D. No, 'tis not incredible. 
 Nothing is incredible of any man. 
 And, Laura, I know that he is in love. He carries 
 A portrait of his lady in his pocket. 
 
 L. {aside). Ah ! 
 
 D. I'll make an effort first to get at that. 
 But if I fail, I must ask you to watch 
 To-night, just for one night, only one hour. 
 You are trembling, Laura. 
 
 L. So are you, Diana. 
 
 D. I am angry. 
 
 L. So am I. 
 
 D. No : you are frightened. 
 
 Dare you not watch the garden ? 
 
 L. O yes : I promise 
 
 I'll watch the garden well to-night, Diana. 
 If he should venture again, I'll see him. I think 
 I could wait longer than one hour. 
 
 D. Do so : '«=» 
 
 I shall set guard within. Eleven's the time. 
 
 Z. [aside.) Could kindest ingenuity contrive 
 Better than this? But how shall I warn Frederick 
 About the picture? — 
 
 Enter SIR GREGORY and ST. NICHOLAS. 
 D. Good-morning, gentlemen. I need not ask 
 The reason why you visit me thus early. 
 
 N. Early is late to them that find their sunrise 
 In seeing thee, my lady. 
 
 D. Better speak, sir, 
 
 Your poetry to Laura. 
 
 N. She is my rose. 
 
 The rose of my sun's garden-ground, and I '"*' 
 
 The nightingale forlorn that steal to woo her. 
 
 D. That's very well. But I now, by my name, 
 Should be yjur moon. 
 
 N. I have a verse to fit. [Reciting. 
 
 The llowers of dawn are uplifted to hear 
 
 The birds' enamoured tune. 
 Which tell their love in the pale ear 
 
 Of the far-flying moon. 
 
 D. That's very beautiful. Now, tell your love : 
 I fly. [Goes to Sir Gregory, 
 
 Sir Gregory, sit you to the table : 
 These are the articles. [They sit, D. shows papers. 
 
 G. I much regret 
 
 The small provision that I make for Laura. 
 But if St. Nicholas doth .as he has promised. 
 That will suffice. I see the treaty lacks 
 Nought but the seals. 
 
 D. He will make Laura rich. 
 
 G. My elder brother, as your ladyship knows, 
 Is childless, and next heir to such estates, 
 As fairly promise Laura twenty times 
 As much as what St. Nicholas gives her now. 
 Meanwhile we must not reckon on this chance. 
 
 D. Read it. Sir Gregory. "»" 
 
 Z. (/(' N.). The day is fixed, and there my father 
 sits 
 Reading the settlement : what would you more ? 
 
 iV. _ O Laura, 
 
 More gracious words. Who that now heard us talk 
 Would guess we were to marry in two days ? 
 
 Z. Maybe we are not. 
 
 N. Nay, dear one, do not doubt me : 
 
 Have I not sworn my faith a thousand times ? 
 And were I an emperor . . , 
 
 Z. Who wants emperors? 
 
 N, Or even a prince. 
 
 Z. I do not care for princes. 
 
 G. [aloud). Heigh ! heigh ! Why this will never 
 do. What's this? 
 
 N. But what can now prevent our marriage, 
 Laura ? 
 
 Z. Human affairs are ever so uncertain, — 
 And one of us might die, — and if 'twas you. 
 Think how mucli needless sorrow I then should suffer 
 For having loved you now. And, seeing the risk, 
 'Twere scarcely prudent to commit myself ">''" 
 
 More than is necessary. 
 
 N. O cruel wisdom ! 
 
 Are women all so careful of their feelings? 
 
 G. Why, what a blundering fellow ! 
 
 D. What is't. Sir Gregory ? 
 
 G. Heigh ! 
 
 N. But when we are married thou wilt love me, 
 Laura ? 
 
 L. Yes, when we are married. 
 
 N. I can wait for that : 
 
 'Tis but two days ; — and now we speak of it, 
 I wish that thou wouldst tell me in what colour
 
 1 66 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act II. 2. 
 
 'Twould please thee that I dressed. Or wilt thou come, 
 O'erlook the suits my tailor has prepared, 
 And say which pleases best. 
 
 L. Sir, since you strike 
 
 The very root of the chord, I'll tell you how 
 You may best please me. There was once a man 
 I liked, whose custom it was to dress in black : 
 If you will dress like him . . . 
 
 N. In black ! 
 
 G. (Laura listens.) Vour ladyship, "*» 
 
 I cannot sign this contract — the provision 
 I look for is not here ; the scribe has blundered. 
 This is no settlement at all. AVho drew it ? 
 
 D. Frederick. 
 
 G. Then he's no lawyer. I am surprised 
 
 He took this on himself. 
 
 L. [aside). So, well done, Frederick ! 
 
 D. 'Tis most provoking. Are jou sure. Sir 
 Gregory, 
 'Tis as you say ? 
 
 N. {to Gregory). Will you not sign the contract ? 
 
 G. (rising), I cannot sign it. 
 
 Z>. There's a flaw, it seems, 
 
 In the deed, St. Nicholas : but there's time enough 
 To have it drawn afresh. Pray come. Sir Gregory, 
 Come to my study. Here we interrupt 
 These lovers. [Becions C. off. Exeunt D. anJ G. 
 
 N. Now they are gone, put off this mask. 
 
 L. What mask ? 
 
 N. Thou dost respect the Countess' eye and ear. 
 And wilt not love when she is by ; but now 
 Give me at least thy hand to kiss. 
 
 L. Why no, sir. 
 
 N. Say then thou lovest me, sweetest Laura. — 
 
 L. Nay, but I do not, sir. I understand 
 That women love their husb.inds, and I promise 
 To love mine wlien I am married ; yes, as well '"^^ 
 As any happy woman on this earth 
 Hath ever loved. Are you content with that? 
 
 N. I should be, Laura ; but thou dost not speak 
 As if 'twere true. 1 could see well enough 
 Thou wert not sorry when .Sir Gregory said 
 lie would not sign. I kno.v thou wilt not love me. 
 
 L. Then why, in heaven's name, would you 
 marry me ? 
 
 N. Because I love thee. But I think no man 
 Did ever love so cruel and strange a mistress. 
 
 L. And you, sir, do no less appear to me 
 Distrustful .and impatient. Prithee go, 
 Busy yourself to get your clothes in fashion : 
 In two days is my marriage ; after that — 
 
 N. Well ! 
 
 /,. After that all shall seem different. 
 
 N. I m.ade a sonnet of my love for thee. 
 And would have given it. 
 
 /.. Why then did you not ? 
 
 N. I lost it in the garden. 
 
 L. It can't be lost. 
 
 N. No. Tristram found it and won't give it up. 
 He says that Frederick wrote il. 
 
 L. Frederick ! nonsense, sir ! 
 
 Some one is coming. Excuse me. '"" 
 
 \_E.xxl. 
 
 N. O woman, various woman ! thus to treat 
 The man she loves ! and yet how well becomes thee 
 Thy native wit, when sweetest modesty 
 Is masked thereby in tart indifference, 
 Which spurs far more than doting tenderness 
 The passion it rebuff's. What wit she hath ! 
 My Laura I Wit is admirable in woman. 
 It is so rare ; and 'tis the salt of marriage. 
 
 F. and R. have entered. i 
 
 R.(toF.). Here's our belated bee, let's go elsewhere, j 
 
 F. Nay drive him to his hole. 
 
 R. How now, St. Nicholas ! | 
 
 Musing, I think, on thy good fortune, eh ? ] 
 
 N. Good morning, Frederick, and, sir, how do 
 you ? 
 
 R. Fairly, I thank thee, fairly : but in presence 
 Of happiness like thine, mine goes for nothing. 
 
 F. Thou hast been honey-gathering early, sir. 
 
 N. I will confess it : that was my pursuit. 
 
 F. True to thy beeship, thy belated beeship. 
 
 N. Sir ! 
 
 R. I am sure our friend means no offence. 
 
 The happy expressions of true genius 
 Stick in the memory. 
 
 F. Yes, sir, it stuck fast. '"^" 
 
 The Sphinx's tear was somewhat sticky too. 
 Thou didst not spare us ; we were put to shame. 
 
 N. Is that a reason, sir, before this stranger 
 To mock me? I can appreciate ridicule 
 Prompted by envy at its proper worth. 
 Affecting to find fault with my expressions ! 
 Good morning, gentlemen. \F.xit. 
 
 R. You poets treat each other vilely. 
 
 /'. Now, Richard. 
 
 R. My scheme is this : I have written to my 
 servants ; 
 They will receive you. Leave to-morrow night. 
 And you will find all ready ; You shall have 
 Such a reci'plinn and fair bridal trim. 
 And high festivities as shall dress out 
 The luisty manner of your coming. 
 
 F. But first, 
 
 How shall I make my escape? I am watched, sus- 
 pected. 
 
 R. I can arrange that too. By my behaviour 
 Aiul letter to tlie Countess I have contrived 
 To win her trust. First I shall praise her scheme 
 Of sending you to Milan, and then persuade her 
 To send you again. You must hit on a plan '""" 
 
 How to convey your lady to the carriage. 
 And all is done. 
 
 /•'. What sh.all I do with Tristram ? 
 
 R, Leave him to me : my purse will settle him. 
 
 /•'. 'Tis excellently schemed ; but if Diana 
 Press me to tell how I obtained the letter, 
 What can I say ? 
 
 A'. She is easily put off' : 
 
 That question does not touch her. Any tale 
 Will serve. 
 
 /•". \'et, Richard, what so generously 
 You do for me must ruin you with her. 
 Is't possible you are curcil ! 
 
 R. No, no : mistake not ! 
 
 I am more and more in love : and sec my way
 
 Act II. 2.] 
 
 Tlie Humours of the Court. 
 
 167 
 
 By certain steps : and first to get thee married. 
 Her love for thee is a romance, which I 
 Can shift upon myself when thou art gone. 
 And that she loves tliee, thee the worthiest, 
 Dearest and nearest of my earliest friends, 
 Is no impediment. Is't not halfway 
 To loving me ? Tis happy for me, Frederick, 
 Thou hast not seen her worth. 
 
 F. And I half question 
 
 Whether 'tis not my duty as friend of both ''"' 
 
 To close with her and save you. 
 
 K. Thou dost not know her, 
 
 Because, I thank thee for it, thou dost not love her. 
 And, friend, thy speech is gross ; why the truth is 
 There's not a man or woman on God's earth. 
 However humble, mean, or ill-appearing, 
 That hath not in his sight some grace and favour. 
 Which angels see : but mortals overlook it. 
 Being spiritually blind : for which affliction 
 They have suffered half their shames, and slain the just. 
 But Love, God's gift, is spiritual sight ; 
 'Tis the perception, which man lacks of all. 
 Given him of one, to see as angels see. 
 This is man's marriage ; and what now I love 
 Is not, friend, what thou seest, — though thou mayst 
 
 see 
 A beauty unparalleld, — but rather that 
 Which by love's gift I see : so say no more. 
 
 F. Forgive me, Richard : 'tis a just rebuke. 
 I did speak grossly. 'Tis that artist's pride 
 Of which you used to warn me : I will confess it. 
 In my own case I am idealist '*"' 
 
 At the price of all the world. If I believed 
 I were as others, I should mock myself. 
 I have not yet come to that. Now, in my excuse, 
 Diana is sometimes laughable. 
 
 R. And who 
 
 Would not be laughable who had his way, 
 Or if one set his humours on a throne? 
 
 F. Well, you will rule her. Still there's room to 
 fear 
 You may not win her. 
 
 R. I doubt not to win : 
 
 At least if you'll be gone. 
 
 F. Trust me to go. 
 
 Enter DIANA with papers in hand. LA UK A and 
 FLORA. 
 
 D. Frederick ! 
 
 F. Your ladyship ! 
 
 D. This settlement 
 
 Is but w.aste paper. Didst thou draw it thyself? 
 
 F. I did, your ladyship. 
 
 D. Then pray explain. 
 
 F. If I have made any error . . . 
 
 D. Error, sir ! 
 
 The lady is here left wholly unprovided. 
 And if Sir Gregory had not by good fortune 
 Studied the terms, but trusted to thy skill. 
 He had left his daughter penniless. 
 
 F. There is full time 
 
 To draw it afresh. I humbly crave your pardon 
 For such omission. 
 
 D. Stay, I have more against thee. 
 
 I will proceed in form. We have an audience : ^^" 
 Stand upon thy defence. I am the plaintiff, 
 
 The accuser ; and, Ricardo, be thou judge. 
 
 Hear all. This gentleman hath been my secretary 
 
 Now for twelve months. In all my aflairs I have set 
 
 No limit to my trust : I have ever shown him 
 
 Absolute confidence : and yet how think you 
 
 Hath he repaid me ? He hath lied to me. 
 
 I accuse him here to his face before you all. 
 
 He said to-day he had been last night to Milan 
 
 And brought me a letter, when he had never been 
 
 there. 
 And had not brought it. Contradict me, sir. 
 If I say wrong. You hear he is silent. Now 
 I say he forged that letter. 
 
 F. Silence, my lady. 
 
 Is the answer fittest for a charge too gross 
 To be denied. 
 
 D. Then tell me by what means 
 
 The letter came to thee. Still silent. I hope 
 Thou dost mark that, Ricardo. 
 
 F. In my defence 
 
 I say I have served your ladyship as well 
 As you have trusted me : and for this matter, — 
 You gave me a letter for the Duke of Milan "■'" 
 
 Requiring speedy answer. I procured 
 That answer in good time. 
 
 D. Ah, but thou saidst 
 
 That ihou thyself didst bear it, as I bade thee. 
 Silent? Now here's a secret ; there's some matter 
 Withheld from me which I have a right to know. 
 I have cause to think thou hast upon thy person 
 The explanation. I would see what papers 
 Thou carries! with thee. 
 
 F. I have no papers, madam. 
 
 Such as you look to find. 
 
 D. Thou sayst that letter 
 
 Was not a forgery. I wish to see 
 If something which I think is in thy pocket 
 Is not a forgery. 
 
 F. If on first appearance 
 
 Of having wronged you, you mistrust me thus. 
 There is no cure. Demand my papers from me : 
 I cannot take them back. 
 
 D. I do demand them. 
 
 F. You shall have everything in perfect order 
 Before this evening. 
 
 D. Stay ! I wish to see 
 
 What papers thou hast with thee. 
 
 F. Very well. 
 
 This is the only pocket in my dress ; 
 Here the contents. {Offers a fru' letters.) 
 
 D. Is that the only pocket ? ^^~" 
 
 I thought there was another little pocket 
 On the left side. 
 
 F. (aside). Ah ! 'tis that villain Tristram 
 Hath told her this. 
 
 D. What say you, sir? Is't true? 
 
 No answer. Now I think the explanation 
 Lies in that pocket. If I am wrong, 'tis easy 
 To prove me so. But if thou hast a secret . . . 
 
 F. I have a secret, and you are well informed 
 I carry it on me. And to prove to all 
 'Tis of a private nature, I will shew it. 
 'Tis but this little case. [S/iaws case 0/ portrait.) 
 
 D. A portrait-case ? 
 
 F. A portrait. 
 
 D. Ah, then, now we have the truth :
 
 i68 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act II. 2. 
 
 Thou art in love. This is the wondrous sickness 
 That keeps thee at home when I would send thee 
 
 forth : 
 Distracted thee in drawing of the deed . . . 
 
 F. Enough, my lady ; you have pushed this far 
 enough. 
 
 D. Oh no ! I have now another charge of false- 
 hood. 
 I have long suspected this ; and yesterday 
 When I did ask thee if thou wert in love, 
 Thou didst deny it. But thou dost not now — 
 So tell me who the lady is. 
 
 L. (asiJeto R.). All's lost! 
 
 F. (coming quite to front). Your ladyship must 
 grant me in private conduct 
 Some liberty : my honest duty and sei-vice 
 Never surrendered that, and should avail '*'' 
 
 To spare me this ungenerous inquisition. 
 
 D. And very well, sir, if thou hast not trans- 
 gressed 
 The rules of the court : these art thou bound to 
 
 observe : 
 And these, as well thou knowest, forbid my ladies 
 To hide their love affairs from me. Dark meetings, 
 Intrigue, sly correspondence, and the rest. 
 Are treason here ; nay, they are so well forbidden. 
 That to conceal them is a breach of trust. 
 Give me thy word then, Frederick, that this portrait 
 Is not of any lady in my court, 
 I'll ask no more. — But if she is of the court, 
 I'll know who it is. Now speak, and quit thyself 
 
 F. I will not say whether it is so or no. 
 
 D. That is confession. I must see the portrait. 
 Ricardo, now thy judgment. 
 
 Ji. 1 fear, my lady, 
 
 I have too short acquaintance with the rules 
 .Appealed to ; and if I offer you my judgment '"" 
 
 By such unwritten statutes as obtain 
 In the best circles that I know, for instance, 
 The court of Milan . . . 
 
 D. What is the court of Milan? 
 
 Are we not here at Belflor? — You know the rules, 
 Laura ; speak for me. 
 
 L. He must shew the portrait. 
 
 {Coming fonuard to F.) 
 {Aside). All's lost unless I do it. 
 {To F.). Sir, give it to me. 
 
 Judgment hath gone against you. 1 can ]iromise 
 No eye shall learn thy .secret but the Countess. 
 To her 'tis due. So give her up the portrait. 
 {Aside to F.). I will exchange them. — 
 
 F. gives L. the portrait : %vhich the spectators sec her 
 exchange for another. She turns, and, going to 
 D. , presents her with that. 
 
 D. (taking). I thank thee, Laura ; and now to 
 learn the secret : 
 Who is this wanton traitress ? (Opens case.) 
 
 Ah!— ha I ha! 
 Impossible, — 'tis true. Who would believe it ? 
 Why, friends, there is no secret after all : 
 No lady, — 'tis himself. — 
 He carries a portrait of himself ; himself 
 Leaning upon his elbow. Now, heaven save mc ! 
 This I was told ; but tho' my own eyes sec it, 
 I cannot credit it. O, gracious sir, 
 I have wronged thee, and beg pardon. Yet, I think, 
 
 Thou losest in acquittal. O Frederick, Frederick ! 
 
 Although thou art a poet, and mayst think 
 
 Thou hast a touch of rarer stufi', to make thee 
 
 Self-centred ; — nay, tho' thou wert more than that. 
 
 More than I ever thought thee . . . 
 
 To carry thine own portrait ! to have a pocket 
 
 For it ! well, well ! 'tis a fair picture enough, 
 
 Not undeserving of its jewelled case. 
 
 Poor little image ! row I'm sorry for thee. 
 
 Thou hast no lady-lover, but must live 
 
 In thine own pocket, as it were. — Let me have thee, 
 
 I'll keep thee — may I not, Frederick ? — a remembrance 
 
 Of better hopes. Come, Laura : doth your poet 
 
 Carry his portrait, too ? He is distanced quite. 
 
 [Exit D. and L. with Flora. 
 
 F. By heaven, [well saved ! 
 
 F. What is't ? I understand not. 
 
 'Twas your own portrait ? 
 
 F. Yes ; but that I had 
 
 Was Laura's. She having mine, stepped in between. 
 And interchanged them. 
 
 R. I never saw it. Bravo! — most deftly done. 
 
 F. 'Twas touch and go. That meddling devil, 
 Tristram, '"*' 
 
 He must have told her of it. 
 
 Re-enter Laura. 
 
 L. The Countess, Frederick, 
 
 Bids me return the portrait. Thou mayst die 
 To look on it, she says, — here 'tis. (Giving her oavn.) 
 
 F. Be sure 
 
 This is the right one. Well : she says not ill. (Kissingit. ) 
 
 L. I tremble still. 
 
 F. O, thou didst well. 
 
 L. To-night 
 
 Be in the jiark again — under my window — 
 I am set to watch for you. 
 
 F. Thou ! 
 
 L. Yes, — by Diana. 
 
 Eleven, — I dare not stav. Farewell till then. 
 
 \E.xit. 
 
 F. Well, there's the end of it, Richard. 
 
 R. Yes : and 'tis plain 
 
 She never really loved you. Yet, if I am right. 
 Here's a new difficulty arisen. Diana, 
 If she believes this nonsense, will no longer 
 Be jealous for you ; and I shall never manage 
 To get you off to Milan. 
 
 F. 'Tis worse than ever. 
 
 What can we do ? 
 
 R. 'Tis best I undeceive her, 
 
 And set things as they were. Her jealousy 
 Is ground lo work on ; but lliis foolery 
 Is bottomless. 
 
 Enter Flora. 
 
 Fl. (to R.). Her hulyship has sent 
 To beg you await her, sir. .She hath a matter 
 To speak of with you in private. 
 
 R. Bear my respects """ 
 
 Back to your mistress ; — say 1 await iier here. 
 
 \E.xit Flore. 
 See how I prosper, (let you gone, while I 
 Step in your shoes. 
 
 /■'. Kichanl, do not be rash :
 
 Act II. 2.] 
 
 The Humours of' the Court. 
 
 169 
 
 And if you find she is cured, leave well alone. 
 J?. Trust me : in serving you I serve myself. 
 
 [Exit F. 
 Diana hath not been honestly in love. 
 If 'twere the virtual Frederick she adored 
 She could not so mistake him. 'Tis but fancy, 
 I Which jealousy halh magnified to passion : 
 I .'\nd now she eyes him as tlie fox the grapes, "*' 
 
 I -Vnd rather than be crossed, she'll be persuaded 
 ! That he's an idiot. That's not honest love, — 
 Fanciful consolations are the comfort 
 Of fancied passion, — love needs better food. 
 
 Enter D. 
 
 D. IIow now, Ricardo? I have not done laugh- 
 ing yet. 
 What of my ingenious secretary? I think 
 'Tis well I trapped him : we might else have searched 
 For a lady long enough. 
 
 R. You are satisfied 
 
 I5y this discovery ? 
 
 D. Clearly ; all is explained. 
 
 I came to tell you the campaign is over. 
 Finding there's nought to seek, the search is ended. 
 The wonder is, Tristram had solved the mystery, 
 And told me ; but I laughed. 
 
 U. 
 D. 
 R. 
 D. 
 R. 
 
 R. 
 D. 
 R. 
 D. 
 
 Now you believe ? 
 
 Ha ! ha ! 
 
 How you must now despise him ! 
 
 I do, indeed. 
 You laugh. 'Tis strange that it should please 
 you. 
 D. Ah! 
 I laugh to think there was no cause for all 
 My . . . 
 
 Your . . . 
 
 My needless trouble, my anxiety. 
 Anxiety, — you mean, lest? . . . 
 
 For my maids. 
 R. {half -aside). Indeed ! — indeed ! 
 D. 'Twas more than laughable 
 To see him ; and you there with your face so grave. 
 R. I thought you were deceived. 
 D. I was deceived, 
 
 But now I understand. 
 
 R. Your ladyship, =002 
 
 I think, is more mistaken now tlian ever. 
 Frederick hath told me himself that he is in love ; 
 And that's the truth, both likely, and well-confirmed. 
 Even by tlie accident you set against it. 
 You find on him a portrait of himself 
 Set in a jewelled case ; just such a gift 
 As he might make to his lady. I know, from him, 
 He hath her picture. 
 
 D. Ah ! you have seen it ? 
 
 R. No. 
 
 D. Then I am assured there is no other picture 
 Than that I saw. His servant guessed the truth : 
 'Twas part of a pretence, for which I think 
 There may be a cause. There is no lady at all. 
 
 R. Tristram's a fool ; and wrests what wit he hath 
 To outwit himself. 
 
 D. What then do you believe ? 
 
 R. I see'the stroke your ladyship prepared 
 
 Was excellent : the merest chance in the' world 
 Enabled him to escape. 
 
 D. Impossible. 
 
 This is a dream. Besides, how could he dare '""* 
 Deceive me again, and wish me to believe 
 That he is a fool ? 
 
 R. A false opinion wrongs 
 
 The holder most. 
 
 D. Never ! I cannot think it. 
 
 R. You do not wish to think it. 
 
 D. And what dost thou, sir, 
 
 Think that I wish ? 
 
 R. One thing at least is clear . . . 
 
 D. (aside). Good heaven I if I have betrayed my- 
 self— 
 Well, sir! 
 
 R. You are vexed to think Frederick should be in 
 love. 
 
 D. How so, pray ? — how should I be vexed at 
 that? 
 
 R. The fear to lose so good a secretary. 
 
 D. So good a secretary ! — Ha ! now, Ricardo, 
 I am vexed, that's the truth, at Frederick's love. — 
 I see how likely it is you are right — I am sorry — 
 I do not wish to believe it : I thought at first 
 His lady, whoever she was, might be in the town : 
 Or, if the affair had spmng within my court. 
 It might be one of my guests : but now it happens 
 We have no visitors. If last night he kept 
 An appointment here in the court, — who can it be 
 But one of the maids ? Are you surprised I am 
 
 vexed ? 
 I thought well of him, and still would think the best : 
 I'll not believe it. 
 
 R. {aside). I shall not act this out. ««i 
 
 I almost dare to tell her all : she tortures 
 Herself for nothing. — ^I cannot . . . 
 
 D. What say you, sir ? 
 
 R. 'Tis out of the question, madam. 
 
 D. Nay, tell not me. 
 
 I know what men will do. 
 
 R. If you believe it. 
 
 There's but one plan. 
 
 /). And that ? 
 
 R. To send him away. 
 
 D. To send him away ? Of course I might ; I'll 
 doit: 
 To-night, Ricardo. 
 
 R. (aside). Now we go too fast — 
 The sooner he goes the better : and yet your plan 
 Was good, to watch to-night. Now that he thinks 
 .Suspicion lulled too, he will be more rash. 
 Let Lady I^aura watch the garden, and I 
 His room : even if that fail, 'tis time enough 
 To send him off to-morrow. 
 
 D. ... I thought when I came in here, Ricardo, 
 I'had come to the end of the matter : I find instead 
 'Tis ten times more involved, doubtful, and difficult. 
 For after this exposure, if Frederick stayed. 
 Our mutual trust is sapped : and if, as you urge, 
 I send him away, there's none to take his place. -"^'" 
 Nor can I do without him. In two d.ays hence 
 The wedding is fixed, for which a host of guests 
 Are bid to the house. Sir Gregory being so deaf 
 Would be overwhelmed ; Frederick cannot be spared. 
 Yet would he stay if I asked him ? Did you hear him
 
 IJO 
 
 The Humourx of the Court. 
 
 [Act 11. 2. 
 
 Threaten he would not take his papers back? 
 He sees, no doubt, how necessary he is. 
 
 R. No doubt, my lady, he sees that when he is 
 gone 
 He cannot be here to help you. 
 
 D. Who can help me? 
 
 What is your counsel ? 
 
 S. Not to ask a favour -"™ 
 
 Of one whom you so hotly have charged with wrong. 
 
 D. I would not. 
 
 Ji. Sir Gregory then must do his best. 
 
 D. 'Tis no solution that. 
 
 /". Then what, my lady. 
 
 If I should take the place awhile ? I offer 
 My service, I would do my best. 
 
 D. I thank you, 
 
 Ricardo. I hardly like to accept ; and yet 
 You have come to know much that I cuuld not tell 
 To another. 
 
 B. [aside). I win. But she must ask me herself. 
 
 D. I think I might accept. — What say you ? 
 
 /?. My lady, 
 
 I see one difficulty, — I have offered more 
 Than is quite my own : for being the Duke's servant 
 I cannot without his leave give pledge to another. 
 
 D. Cannot you get his leave? 
 
 H. Yes. I will ask it. 
 
 And what if Frederick be our messenger? 
 Send him again to -Milan ; the very mission 
 That he played false in : so your dignity 
 Is salved and explanation saved. 
 
 D. 'Tis good. 
 
 To-mon-ow he goes. If you will act in his place — ' 
 For some ten days, say ? 
 
 J?. Longer, if it should please you. 
 
 D. I thank you, I shall not need it. 
 
 S. But if . . . 
 
 D. If what? 
 
 jV. If Frederick should resign, and if the Duke 
 Gave me permission, might I keep my place ? 
 
 D. I thank you. sir ; I hope there'll be no need. 
 
 Ji. But may I hope ? 
 
 D. In truth I know of none 
 
 I'd rather see in his place. 
 
 Ji, A thousand thanks ! 
 
 D. Why thank me so, sir? I am here the 
 obliged. 
 
 R. Your ladyship knows not the great desire 
 I have felt to serve her. 
 
 D. I am happy to have inspired it. 
 
 It comes to me as a sort of consolation 
 In my distress — 
 
 Jl. Agreed then that to-night 2""' 
 
 We watch. If nothing come of that, to-morrow 
 Frederick is sent to Milan with my letter. 
 Only your ladyship must be prepared 
 To lose him. Whoever it is he loves, I am sure 
 When we discover her, we shall find a passion 
 Worthy and deep, from which he'll not be moved : 
 Therefore . . . 
 
 /'. O, you are mistaken. I know him better. 
 I know he is cold. Well, well : I thank you. I 
 
 wish you 
 Good-evening, sir. — To-morrow, speak wc of this — 
 But I have been much deceived. — Be not concerned, 
 'Tis nothing. [Faiiils. 
 
 Ji. (siipporliug her to a chair). Flora ! — Here is a 
 
 chair, my lady. 
 You are over-wrought. {Aside). By heaven, what 
 
 brutes we are ! 
 'Twere kinder far to tell her at once — Diana ! 
 Dearest Diana ! (Aside). What am I doing ? — Flora! 
 
 Flora ! 
 
 Enter Flora. 
 
 Ft. My lady in one of her fits ! 
 
 Ji. What is it ? Look at her, Flora ! 
 
 Fl. To fan her face, — that's all. 
 
 She will come to herself. See, see ! 
 
 R. [aside). This lump 's not fit to touch her. — 
 My lady ! — Diana I 
 
 D. [awakening). Who's there? Ah, Flora ! 
 
 Fl. My lady 
 
 Has fainted again. 
 
 D. Ricardo ! — yes, I remember. "'-'" 
 
 How foolish. 
 
 Fl. All's well, my lady. 
 
 D. [to Fl.). Give me an arm. 
 
 I'll go within. 
 
 R. Cannot I help you ? 
 
 D. Oh, no. 
 
 'Tis nothing, — a silly habit I wish I were rid of. 
 I tliank you. Good evening, sir. 
 
 Ji. Good evening, madam. 
 
 I promise to bring this all to a happy end. 
 
 D. I thank you, sir : I would you might. So, 
 Flora. \Exit with Fl. 
 
 R. Now, by my soul, Frederick's atrocious ! 
 'Tis brutal of him. He h.is let this go too far. 
 She loves him much too well. Good heaven ! to 
 
 think 
 He might have had her. I owe him everything 
 For being so blind, and eager too for his marriage 
 With Lady Laura. Yes, and thanks to her 
 For being so ready ; and to .St. Nichol.is 
 For setting her on ; for he in the end ajipcars 
 As my good genius, tho' he little dreams it. 
 So far, all prospers — all is in good train. 
 To-morrow will decide my fate. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. 
 
 A hall on the first floor of the palace : stairs 
 at the back leading down. A lamp 
 burning below shines on to the stage. 
 
 Enter TRJS7 RAM and FLORA hurriedly (R.). 
 
 Fl. Fly, Tristram, down the stairs : she is coming, 
 y. O, wain ! wala ! If she has seen us — 
 /■'/. Quick ! And dout the lamp. "*' 
 
 [Exit R. 
 T. O, wala ! wala I 
 {E.\it down the stairs, haek, maiing a great noise ; the 
 lamp suddenly goes out.
 
 Act III. I.] The Ihimonrs of the Court. 
 
 171 
 
 Enter Diana in robe-de-chnmbre^ luith a lamp in her 
 hand. 
 D. Stop, sir ! stop, stop ! I see you : I bid you 
 stop. 
 Flora, Floral — I'll ring the alarm. [Pulls a rope. 
 
 Will no one come ? 
 
 Enter Ricardo (L.). 
 R. I heard your ladyship call. 
 D. He is here, Ricardo : I heard him, I saw him. 
 R. Where ? 
 
 D. He ran off down the stairs. Follow him and 
 seize him. "'^'' 
 
 Bring him back here. Quick ! 
 
 R. Down the stairs? 
 
 D. Quick, quick 1 
 
 [Exit R. at back. 
 Is this the way I am treated? and not a servant ! 
 Flora ! Come, Flora I Flora ! is no one awake ? 
 
 Enter (L.) St. Nicholas hurriedly, half -dressed, carry- 
 ing suits of clothes, a dressing-case, etc. 
 
 D. Stay, sir ! where go you? 
 
 N. Fire ! fire ! The palace is on fire ! Fly, fly ! 
 
 D. Stay, sir, I say : the house is not on fire. 
 
 jV. Where is the fire? Mercy! O, heaven save 
 me ! 
 
 D. There is no fire at all. 
 
 If, No fire ! Are you sure ? 
 
 D. I rang the bell myself to awake the house. 
 A man broke in. 
 
 N. Thieves ? Robbers ? 
 
 D. I do not know. 
 
 He has got away. Go, wake Sir Gregory. 
 
 N. (going). First let me fetch my sword I 
 
 D. Nonsense, St. Nicholas ; we need no sv^ords. 
 Go, wake Sir Gregory, and send him here : 
 Send him at once. [Exit N. (u ) 
 
 Re-enter Ricardo [back). 
 
 Were you too late, Ricardo? """ 
 
 Did you not catch him ? Has he escaped ? 
 
 R. In the dark, 
 
 Whoever it was, had passed the door before me, 
 And, like a hare, faster than I could follow, 
 Sped o'er the grass into the house. 
 
 D. You saw him? 
 
 Where went he in? 
 
 R. At Frederick's door. I reached it 
 
 In time to hear the key turn in the lock. 
 
 D. 'Tis he, then, and escaped in spite of us. 
 But I'll find out with whom he dares . . . 
 
 R. (aside). 'Twas the fool Tristram : 
 I saw him plainly enough. .Should I not tell her? — 
 
 Z>. Ricardo, go and fetch Sir Gregory ; 
 I have sent St. Nicholas for him, but the man 
 Is scared with terror. 
 
 R. (aside). While all goes well with me, the less 
 I meddle 
 The better. I'll let her find this out herself. 
 
 [Exit I.. 
 
 D. I'll ring the bell again. 
 
 Enter the Maids (r.). 
 So here you crawl at last ! I had better keep 
 No maids at all than such a drowsy troop. 
 
 Not frightened by the fire-bell ! You must have 
 Wondrous good consciences. Now, tell me at once — 
 There was a man outside my chamber-door 
 Laughing and talking. Answer at once!— who was 
 
 it? 
 Who was it was here ? 
 
 Dorothy. I heard my lady call ; 
 
 But did not think that it could be my lady 
 At such an hour. 
 
 D. Nay : I should be asleep 
 
 Of course, but I was not. 
 
 Enter Gregory and Ricardo (l. ). 
 My m.njor-domo 
 At last. Come in. Sir Gregory, come : you are 
 wanted. 
 G. 1 am shocked, your ladyship, at what hath 
 happened : 
 Ricardo hath told me. But there seems no doubt 
 The unknown intruder hath escaped. Be sure 
 You may retire in safety, without fear 
 Of being disturbed again. I will go round 
 And see that all's secure. To-morrow morning 
 There shall be full inquiry. 
 
 D. To-morrow ? Nay, 
 
 I do not leave this spot till I know all. 
 I guess who 'tis. 
 
 G. I pray your ladyship 
 
 Retire. The cold air of the hall, the excitement 
 At such an hour may harm your ladyship. 
 
 D. No. If I die I'll learn the truth at once. 
 I know else how 'twill be. You'll go to bed 
 And sleep till noon ; and when you wake you'll say 
 'Twas all delusion, that I never heard ''-'"' 
 
 A man at all. That what Ricardo saw 
 Was but a bush, a shadow, a bat, an owl 
 He frighted from the ivy : and so in the end 
 All will make light of it. 
 
 G. Heigh ! Give me a light. 
 
 The lamp has been extinguished on the stairs. 
 I'll go and search about. 
 [Takes a light from one of the maids, and E.xit, back. 
 R. (aside). I'll stay and watch. 
 
 D. Now, ye dissemblers, stand forth one by one 
 And answer me. 
 
 R. (aside). This will seal Frederick's fate. 
 She must betray her mean suspicion, and I 
 Witness the degradation of her idol. — 
 (The maids are congregated at back, R. as they come 
 out of the passage. They stand foil h singly to be 
 questioned, and come in turn to front, R.) 
 D. Dorothy first. Dost thou know, Dorothy, 
 What man it was whose voice I heard up-stairs ; 
 Who, when I left my room and gave the alarm. 
 Ran out ? 
 
 Dor. I do not know, my lady. 
 D. I ask 
 
 Didst thou not see or hear him ? 
 
 Dor. No, my lady. ''-" 
 
 D. Thou wert asleep ? 
 
 Dor. I was asleep, my lady. 
 
 D. Then stand aside. Now, Kate. 
 
 Dor. (aside). Here's a fine game ! 
 
 D. Sawst thou or heardst thou anything? 
 
 K. No, my lady. 
 
 D. Nothing at all?
 
 172 
 
 The Humours of the Court. [Act III. i. 
 
 IC. Nothing at all, my lady. 
 
 Z>. ^Yert thou asleep ? 
 
 Jv. I was asleep, my lady. ^^° 
 
 D. Step thou aside. Now, Flora. 
 
 K. {to Dor.). Will she lie? 
 
 Dor. (to K.). Trust her. 
 
 D. Now, Flora, answer. 
 
 Fl. I am grieved my lady 
 
 Should think I could deceive her. 
 
 D. 1 did not ask 
 
 If you deceived me. Heard you any noise? 
 Did you see any man? 
 
 Fl. Not I, my lady. 
 
 Dor. to K. {aside'). Oh ! oh ! 
 
 D. Were you asleep ? 
 
 Fl. I was asleep, my lady. 
 
 D. Then stand aside. 
 
 Fl. {aside to A'.l. Did she believe me? 
 
 K. (to FL). Well ! 
 
 Thou'st got a brazen face ! 
 
 Dor. (lio.). Art thou not shamed ? 
 
 D. Marcela next. Didst thou hear anything? 
 
 Alar. I heard no noise until my lady called. 
 
 D. Thou wert asleep ? 
 
 Mar. I was asleep, my lady. 
 
 D. . 'Tis strange. Stand thou aside. 
 
 Dor. (asi<ie). Now then for Rose. 
 
 .Mar. (do.). She really was asleep. 
 
 Fl. (do.). Then what 'shall come? 
 
 D. Now, Rose, Ihou'rt left alone. Thy fellow- 
 servants 
 Have all denied the thing of which some one 
 At least is guilty. Thee I did not suspect : 
 But do not fear to tell the truth. Who was it ? 
 Tell me who is thy lover. No tittering there ! 
 Your levity makes you all accomplices, 
 Ay, every one. 
 
 jiose. My lady, I have no lover. ''"" 
 
 D. Tell me who this man was. 
 
 I^ose. I do not know. 
 
 I heard no noise till Marcela awoke me. 
 
 D. Didst thou awake her, Marcela ? 
 
 Mar. Yes, my lady. 
 
 She was asleep. Rose always speaks the truth. 
 It wasn't Rose. 
 
 D. You arc all then in one plot : 
 
 Or shame has made you lie. But never think 
 To escape. I know the gentleman, and know 
 He visits one of you : and which it is 
 I'll learn to-night : unless perhaps you'll say 
 He makes love to you all. 
 
 Mar. Indeed, my lady, 
 
 He is quite a proper man. 
 
 Dor. And all his courtship 
 
 Has been most regular. 
 
 D. Come, come : confess. 
 
 Who is it? 
 
 /•"/. It's me, my lady. I must confess. 
 
 D. Flora ! 
 
 /•'/. Forgive me, I beg ; for I abjure 
 
 I never asked him : but, as I often tell him. 
 He takes such liberties ; which, as you know him, 
 I need not tell your ladyship : and tis true 
 We have been some time engaged. 
 
 D. Kngaged ! — to you ! 
 
 Here's a fine story I 
 
 /". (aside). She has not said his name. ^'^ 
 
 Fl. Indeed, 'tis true, my lady ; and I am sure 
 My lady will pardon me. And since he hath told 
 
 me 
 How kind your ladyship hath been to him . . . 
 D. By heaven, I'll have you whipped, — whipped ! 
 Fl. O, my lady ! 
 
 /'. And speak of marriage, you impertinent 
 
 hussy ! 
 Fl. It was the money which your ladyship gave 
 him. 
 That made us think of marrying. 
 
 D. \\'orse and worse ! 
 
 To spend my present on my waiting-maid.- — 
 
 tliy pretension ! thy pretension ! Think you 
 He really loves you ? 
 
 Fl. Wliy not ? 
 
 Maids. Ay, why not ? 
 
 D. What hath he ever said to make you think 
 He loves you. Flora ? 
 
 fl. He told me very often, 
 
 Before I'd have him . . . 
 
 D. Ah ! 
 
 Kate. And that I warrant. 
 
 He's not one of your struck-dumb mumbling sort, 
 That haven't a word. 
 
 D. .Silence ! And tell me, Flora, 
 
 Something he has said. 
 
 /'/. He calls me his little love, — his duck : *'"' 
 And says a hundred thousand pretty things 
 As often as we meet. 
 
 D. A hundred thousand ! 
 
 His compliments are cheap. Duck, too ! 
 
 fl. My lady, 
 
 'Tis what men say. It does not mean a duck. 
 
 Kate. 'Tis true, my lady ; 'tis a common saying. 
 
 D. Silence ! No one of you dare from this 
 moment 
 To speak to me. Y'ou are all alike disgraced. 
 And, th.it you are not more sh.amed, disgraced the 
 more. 
 
 1 shall discharge you all. 
 
 Kate. What ! and Rose too ! 
 
 D. To-morrow morning. But, Flora, for you 
 I cannot think of punishment sufticient. 
 Merely to have had a lover, — to have concealed it, — 
 To have even admitted him by night, ^wcre nothing. 
 Had the aftair been . . . 
 
 Reenter Sir Gregory up the stairs with Tristram's 
 haty holding it up. 
 
 C. Found on the st.iir.s, — the intruder's hat, my 
 lady : --■«" 
 
 He had thrown it on the lamp to extinguish it, 
 And thereby is delected. 
 
 R. (aside). Now 's revelation. 
 
 D. Why, — but whose hat is this? 
 
 Fl. 'Tis liis, my lady. 
 
 A'. Is not this Tristram's hat ? 
 
 /'. (aside). Hath he come liithcr in his servant's 
 
 clothes ? 
 Fl. It's Tristram's hat. 
 
 K. At least what's left of it. 
 /'. Came he disguised ? 
 
 /■/. 'Twas thus, my lady. As he ran down the 
 
 stairs.
 
 Act III. I, 2.] I'lie Hu 
 
 mii/ir.s 
 
 of the Court. 
 
 173 
 
 I bade him doiit the lamp. I did not mean 
 That he should burn his hat. 
 
 D. (iisiJi-). What can this be? 
 It can't have been Tristram. — Answer me, Flora: ^"° 
 Was it master Tristram visited you to-night? 
 
 Fl. Of course, my lady. I'd not deny it. 
 
 D. [aside). I see ! 
 
 After all, only Tristram. — Came he alone? 
 Answer me at once. 
 
 ft. I am much ashamed, my lady. 
 
 He came alone. And yet, my lady, I swear 
 I never bade him ; nor asked him, for that matter. 
 I heard his step, and found him waiting there 
 By the big clock. How he came in I know not. 
 
 D. Enough : I shall discover. All leave but 
 Flora. 
 
 [£xc'unt juaids exc<'pt Fl. 
 {Aside). Thank heaven they have not guessed . . 
 
 and yet how nearly 
 My jealousy betrayed me! (To Fl.) I told you. 
 
 Flora, 
 I shall discharge you. Tho' I do not doubt 
 Tristram came here without your invitation, 
 Yet in concealing his pretensions from me 
 You have disobeyed, — deceived me. 
 
 Fl. I was afraid 
 
 My lady would forbid him. 
 
 D. Silence, girl ! 
 
 Go to your room. I'll .speak of this to-morrow. 
 
 Fl. I hope my lady will forgive his boldness. 
 I have told my lady all. 
 
 D. Begone ! begone ! [E.xil Fl. 
 
 (To R.). What think you of this, Ricardo ? =3-o 
 
 R. 'Tis the wrong fox we have hunted. 
 
 D. Ah, I think 
 
 Fox is the word. I half believe that Fiederick 
 And Tristram are in league. 
 
 R. I guessed the truth 
 
 When Flora first confessed. 
 
 D. I was too hot. 
 
 F. You think too ill of Frederick. 
 
 D. Nay, Ricardo : 
 
 Do not defend him. 'Tis enough to shame him 
 That Tristram is his servant. 
 
 G. I pray my lady 
 Will now letire. 
 
 D. Yes, true. Sir Gregory. 
 
 'Tis time, high time. And let this trophy here 
 Be sent to its owner ; and to-morrow morning 
 Bid him cnme speak with me. Tell him, Ricr.rdo. 
 Good-night. {Exit Gregory lighting her out, R. 
 
 R. I am now secure of her : since in my presence 
 She hath so consented to disgrace her idol. 
 He is quite dethroned : she knows too that I know. 
 He is past recovery. Could she but have seen him 
 Walking with Laura in the garden, plotting 
 Their flight to-morrow ! And I to climb by such 
 A ladder of comedy, tottering witli laughter. 
 To love's very heaven ! After three years of pain 
 Three days of farce, disguise, and folly; and then. 
 Suddenly win my joy ! 
 
 Re-enter Sir Gregory. 
 
 And thou, Sir Gregoiy, ^*' 
 
 Shalt be my major-domo. 
 G. Eigh ! 
 
 R. (taking his arm). I say, 
 Sir Gregoiy, I'll have you for my major-domo. 
 
 \E.xeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11. 
 
 Fredericks room ; open portmanteaus, &=(. 
 lying about. Near the fireplace r. is a 
 cuplward with key in lock. A table in 
 centre. 
 
 Enter Frederick carrying music, and Tristram. 
 
 F. All my clothes are in, you say, Tristram ? 
 
 T. Everything, sir. 
 
 F. You pack well, Tristram : put in these, (hand- 
 ing music. ) Is there room for the music ? 
 
 T. Anything, sir. Lie there, ye wrigglers, (begins 
 to sing to himsc'lf.) 
 
 F. And this book. 
 
 T. Where is it you may be going, if you ple.ase, 
 sir? ■''« 
 
 F. Never mind. You pack very well, Tristram. 
 I shall miss you. 
 
 T. If the Couniess has sent you to Milan, will 
 you not want your best black velvet doublet ? 
 
 F. I shall wear that on the journey. 
 
 T. Wear your best black velvet on the road ! 
 Well ! — Stay we long away, sir? 
 
 F. Never mind. Now shut it up and give me the 
 key. 
 
 T. I should like to know, sir, how long we stay 
 away, and when we are to start. 
 
 F. Give me the key. Now, Tristram, I under- 
 stand that the Countess has dismissed you from her 
 household. That saves me e.>(pI.anation. Here's your 
 wages (puts money on the table) for the current quar- 
 ter. You are no more my servant. 
 
 T. Good heavens ! do you discharge me, sir ? I 
 beg, what have I done to offend you? 
 
 F. Never mind. 
 The Countess has discharged you, — that's enough. 
 Tho' you're a fool, Tristram, to say the truth, 
 I have got accustomed to you, and shall be sorry 
 To part with you. I have quite as many reasons 
 For wishing you to stay, as you have given me 
 To be dissatisfied. But so 'tis fated ; ""' 
 
 And -what God willeth, Trisliam, needs must be 
 AJter the opinion of certain cle> kes. 
 
 T. I am not to go with you to-day to Milan ? 
 
 F. No, Tristram. Now we part. 
 T. Consider, sir. 
 
 That Flora is discharged as well as uie : 
 Cannot you take us with you ? 
 
 F. You and Flora 
 
 With me ! 
 
 T. What shall we do, sir? What shall we do? 
 
 F. I'll tell you what. While you were in my 
 service 
 You served me ill, pryed into my affairs. 
 Took bribes to spy upon me : — I know,— attend. 
 If you would win my favour, you must serve me 
 Now you are discharged. You can assist me, and if 
 You serve me better, I'll use my interest, Tristram, 
 To get you a decent place.
 
 174 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act III. 2. 
 
 T. What is't to do ? 
 
 F. 'Tis this. An hour from hence I must be oflf. 
 St. Nicholas will likely enough be here *>*' 
 
 After his marriage settlement. Now, Tristram, 
 He must not tind me. Wait for him here :— do you 
 
 see? — 
 And if he comes, get him out of the way. 
 And if Ricardo comes, tell him that I 
 Am gone to seek him and shall soon return : 
 Bid him await me here. If by your help 
 I get off quickly, I will help you ; if not, 
 Tristram, I'll cut your throat from ear to ear. [£xi/. 
 
 T. Heavens ! what has possessed my master, and 
 what's to happen to me ? O wala, wala ! It all 
 comes of love : or rather, I should say, it all came of 
 my hat. I would it had been consumed entirely. 
 This hole in the crown is not to be mended . . . and 
 all round it 'tis like tinder, it breaks with a touch. Of 
 what contemptible material are these hats made ! It 
 might have been sewn up else. Now 'tis a picture of 
 me. Yes, the hat is mei as it were ; the hole in the 
 crown is the ruin of my fortunes wrought upon me by 
 the fiery lamp, which is my love for Flora. There's a 
 parable. Could I write a poem on this, it might 
 appease the Countess. Deary me ! What are Flora 
 and I to do? Money being the root of all evil, I 
 must look first to that. All depends on that. Let 
 me see what I can muster. There's my pay ; there's 
 the Countess' present, and my little savings, {turns 
 out his purse aiul pockets on to the table. ) I'll put it 
 all in heaps of ten. No, heaps of five : better in 
 fives, there'll be more heaps ; and there's comfort in 
 the number of heaps. Tho' less lordly, 'twill be 
 more showy. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, {knocking 
 at door.') Come in, — twenty-five. 
 
 Enter St. Nicholas. 
 
 N. Tristram! Where's your nvister? 
 
 T. Twenty-five. My master's no more. Twenty-six. 
 
 N. Frederick is dead ? 
 
 T. {singing). What dead, my dearie? 
 
 Oh no, my dearie. 
 N. What is this nonsense, Tristram? 
 T. When I meet with a poet, St. Nicholas, I can 
 
 , , '^ 2430 
 
 speak poetry. 
 
 N. I came to see your master, Tristram ; and you 
 said he was dead. 
 
 T. I said he was no more, not that he was dead : 
 and, as I say, he is no more my master. I am, as 
 'twere, a gentleman at large ; and I sit here by invita- 
 tion, engaged on my own affairs, which do not need 
 assistance. 
 
 N. I came to see your master on important busi- 
 ness, Tristram. Be civil enough to tell me where 
 he is. 
 
 T. My ma.ster is nowhere. This was twenty-six. 
 
 N. I shall wait for him here. 
 
 T. Well, if you choose to wait, I know what you 
 come after. 'Tis not the sonnet. 
 
 N. When will Frederick be back, Tristram ? 
 
 T. But I'll give you b.ick your scmnct, if you will 
 write me a poem about my hat, tliis hat. 'Tis hut to 
 versify my own imaginations. See ! I am the hat : 
 the h:)le in it is my discharge ; the flame which burnt 
 
 the hole is Flora, — that's the Countess' maid. All is 
 good. There's the blackness of the hat, the fire of the 
 lamp, the abysm of the hole : it lacks but the moon, 
 which you might shift to see through the crown ; .and 
 if you could weave in with that your sphinx and 
 something about death, I think that I might tickle 
 the Countess' ear to reconsider of my discharge ; for 
 she loves poetry. 
 
 N. Cur>e thy impertinence, Tristram. Where's 
 thy master? 
 
 T. I will shew you where your master is, if you 
 curse me or aught of mine, master Nick. 
 
 N. Darst thou speak to me thus? 
 
 T. Did you not call me a thief, and base-born 
 clown ? 
 
 N. Art thou not both ? 
 
 T. Whate'er I be, Mr. Poet, I have now no 
 master, nor any obligation to any gentleman to make 
 believe for his convenience that thou art aught. 
 Thou ! Why thy brainpan hath nought in it but 
 shoddy, I warrant. Thou combed ass ! thou left- 
 handed goose ! — to curse me ! 
 
 N. By heaven, I camiot away with thee. 
 
 T. No, that you can't. {Aside). I have it. I'll 
 shut him in the screeky cupboard. — Well, sir : I 
 know what you come after. 'Tis the marriage papers, 
 is it not ? I was bid see to them. Look in that 
 cupboard. 
 
 N. Ah ! are they there? {Goes to cupboard atid 
 looks in. T. pushes him behind, and shuts door on 
 him, locking it. ) 
 
 T. There curse me, and seek your papers. — {Aside). 
 I think I have him now. If this does not satisfy my 
 master, I'll never try to ple.-rse him again. 
 
 N. {within). Let me out at once. There are no 
 papers here. What did you shut me in here for ? 
 
 T. To follow your occupation— to lounge, lounge 
 in the cupboard. Am I a thief? 
 
 N. Let me out, I beg of you, Tristram. 
 
 7". Not till you have made my poem, or told me 
 a cure for the rheumatics. Ay, bawl and kick : I 
 will finish my accounts. Kick away, one for each 
 pile. Twenty-six it was : twenty-seven, twenty-eight, 
 twenty-nine, thirty. Why you overdo it : you kick 
 by the ducat. With three and a half, {pocketing.) 
 thirty-three ducats and a half. Silence ! silence I 
 'Tis more kicks than half-pence, as they say. If you 
 will be quiet, I will give you b.ick your sonnet. 
 ( Takes it out and reads) — 
 
 Master of mine, remember for pitie. 
 
 Hal who's your master now? — I will recite the end 
 part, which I have never read. 
 
 Once in a vesture of pale crimson came 
 
 That ivillcnved Archdelighl, -whose eyes are dim 
 
 IVith gazing on a book of writhing /a me : '■""" 
 
 My stars I and no wonder neither. 
 
 And -n'ith him Hope, the stri!i!;le.fS harp-player. 
 Himself an embelcm, harped in mine ear 
 His long-lost Sapphic song and nuptial hymn. 
 
 Hem! Very good, sir, as far as it goes. You should 
 finish this and have it ready by the wedding. ^ See ! 
 I will thrust it to you under the door. Won't you
 
 Act III. 3.] 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 175 
 
 take it back? If I have not clianned liini to sleep 
 with his own verses ! Ha! he bites — lie lives. (iV. 
 pulh it to him from ■williin.) (To himself). This is 
 very well. But I wonder why my master wished him 
 out of the way ; and why he is sent to Milan ; and 
 taking all these things with him ; and why he is 
 travelling in that doublet. He hath no care for his 
 clothes. Yet I'll do him a last service, and brush it 
 for him. 'Tis sadly dusty (having taken it do2vn). 
 He shall not say that his old valet neglected him in 
 aught. So lie there, (puts doublet on table.) Pockets 
 full, of course. If I were a gentleman, I'd have no 
 pockets. How can velvet lie? How can one smoothe 
 it down, stuffed out in a lump like this . . an old 
 handkerchief, I'll warrant ... no .. a glove : a 
 lady's glove : a very secret affair : one he hath stolen 
 to write verses on. I shall tell the Countess of this. 
 [Knocking at the door heard.) This will be Mister 
 Kicardo, I suppose. Come in ! 
 
 Enter Sir Gregory. 
 
 G. Tristram, where's your master ? Not at home ? 
 
 T. shakes his head. 
 
 G. Do you know where he is ? 
 
 T. shakes. 
 
 G. Has St. Nicholas been here ? =»8» 
 
 T. nods. 
 
 G. Is he gone ? 
 
 T. nods. 
 
 N. (kicking harder). Sir Gregory! Sir Gregory! 
 I am here ! 
 
 G. Do you expect' your master soon ? 
 
 T. nods. 
 
 G. I may sit and await him ? 
 ( T. bows and gives a chair. C. sits to table. T. takes 
 doublet from table. The ghwe falls on the floor. 
 G. takes out papers, and lays them on the table to 
 read them. 
 
 T. (hanging up doublet). Now shall the cupboard- 
 door speak to the old gentleman, (preteiids to busy 
 himself. N. makes a great knocking.) 
 
 G. Come in I There is some one at the door, 
 Tristram. 
 
 T. shakes. 
 
 C. I think there is. (goes to door ami opens it: 
 finds no one, and returns. ) 
 
 (Aside). Frederick is unaccountably remiss, 
 Most unaccountably remiss. — 
 Tristram, I am sure I hear a noise. What is if ? 
 
 T. (going up to G., shouts in his ear). 
 They are sweeping the chimney in the next room. Sir 
 Gregory. 
 
 G. Ah. — You would much oblige me, Tristram, if 
 you would go and seek your master, and tell him that 
 I am here. 
 
 T. (nodding). I can't refuse, and I've done my 
 duty by St. Nicholas. Yet 'tis sad to miss any of 
 this play. I will go, and be back in a trice. (Pass- 
 ing the Clipboard, to N.). Thou silly ! he'll never 
 mind thee. 
 
 N. Curse you, Tristram ! 
 
 T. Hush thee, my babe. \^Exit. 
 
 G. (walks about restlessly). 
 The man's as strange as his master. How Diana 
 Can trust her affairs to one so wholly unfit, 
 So unmethodical ! And what discomfort 
 
 The fellow lives in. The room in sucli disorder : 
 He might be going away for good. Two such ^'^^ 
 Immense portmanteaux. What's all that for now? 
 There is something going on that I do not know 
 
 of . . . 
 Tristram's discharged . . that's true, (sees glove on 
 floor ; and picks it tip mechanically to put it on 
 the table.) A lady's glove 1 
 
 Yes, 'tis a lady's ; thrown upon the floor. 
 What see I ? that embroidery . . 'Tis Laura's ; 
 Laura's. .St. Nicholas hath been here. — 
 No, no. Yet the only other explanation . . . 
 It cannot be ... I see it all . . 'Tis true . . 
 Her tears and strange farewell to me this morning ; 
 Her treatment of St. Nicholas: and Frederick, 
 Why he mistook the contract . . . these portman- 
 teaux. — 
 By heaven, by heaven, there's no time to lose : 
 They're off. (going out, passes close to cupboard. N. 
 
 makes more noise than ever. ) 
 Ha !— Heigh ! 
 'Tis here, then : not in the chimney. Eh ! — who's 
 
 here ? 
 (Opens cupboard.) St. Nicholas ! 
 
 N. O, Sir Gregory, you would not hear. 
 
 G. Who shut you in the cupboard? 
 
 ^. Tristram. 
 
 G. Tristram ? 
 
 JV. assents. 
 
 G. And is this Laura's glove ? Look at it. 
 
 N. (nodding). It is. 
 
 G. Then tell me : did you bring it here? Could 
 you 
 By any chance have dropped it here? 
 
 N. (disclaiming by gesture). I? No, sir. 
 I came to seek for Frederick. 
 
 G. (to himself). What can this mean, ''^^^ 
 
 Unless to keep his rival out of the way ? — 
 Listen, St. Nicholas, I have discovered something 
 Concerns you nearly. — I think — I am sure — 
 Nay : I'll not tell you what I suspect . . 
 'Tis but suspicion. But you have been, I fear. 
 Most shamefully beguiled. 
 
 N. Ay, that I was. 
 
 He said that I should find my settlement 
 In the cupboard. 
 
 G. Patience. I will go to Laura 
 
 And learn the truth. Meanwhile, seek out the 
 
 Countess, 
 And beg her give me an interview at once. 
 I'll come to the ante-chamber. By heaven, St. 
 
 Nicholas . . 
 And yet I scarce know . . . There's no time to 
 
 lose : 
 Come quickly. \^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 A room in the palace. 
 
 Diana and Frederick. 
 
 D. You say you start at once. 
 
 F. The coach is waiting. 
 
 D. Here is my letter : give it to the Duke. 
 The answer is not urgent : it may keep you 
 A day or two at Milan.
 
 176 
 
 The Humours of the Court. [Act III. 3. 
 
 F. You wish, my lady, 
 
 I should return ? 
 
 Z>. Why not ? 
 
 /; I understood 
 
 Your ladyship to accept my resignation. 
 It lies with her convenience but to fix *'"' 
 
 The day of my dismission. 
 
 D. Do you wish 
 
 To leave my service ? 
 
 F. I could never serve 
 
 \Vhere I am distrusted. 
 
 D. Would you reconsider 
 
 Your angry speech, I would make some concession. 
 
 F. I had cause for anger. 
 
 D. That I would concede. 
 
 But I too was provoked ; and in the end 
 I came off worst. 
 
 F. Not so, my lady. 
 
 D. I sought 
 
 To learn your secret, and was merely fooled. 
 
 F. I understand not how your ladyship 
 Was first provoked, — at least with me. 
 
 D. Nay, true : '^™ 
 
 'Twas a, mistake. We need no explanation, 
 And may be friends again. 
 
 F. I cannot offer 
 
 Her ladyship my services. 
 
 D. You leave me ? 
 
 F. 'Tis better that I should. I thank your lady- 
 ship 
 For many kindnesses. I pray sincerely 
 You may be better suited. 
 
 D. No fear for that, 
 
 Frederick : for by my soul I think 
 There is no other man would so have wronged me 
 As thou hast done. . . My only fault h.ith been 
 To have thought too well of thee. Hut do not dream 
 I am unprepared. I have seen tliro' thee, Fred- 
 erick ; 
 Yes, thro' and thro'. My offers of concession 
 I made to prove thee, lest thou shouldst pretend 
 That I was unforgiving. In the letter 
 I have writ the Duke, thou bearcst the commission 
 Of thy successor. Henceforth I reject thee; 
 And treat thee as thou deservest. Go, sir, go ! 
 Indeed, I care not whether thou go or not. 
 
 F. I have then your leave to stay away ? 
 
 D. My leave ? 
 
 I bid thee go, and never see me more. °*'" 
 
 I have done with thee, sir. Go ! 
 
 [Exit F. hmving. 
 
 And that's the man I loved ; the man for whom 
 I sank to jealousy. Who is't he loves ? 
 He love ! The fool was right : he loves himself. 
 Now will he bide at Milan. Ah, good sir. 
 Thy lady is not there, and yet thou gocst 
 Most cheerfully, — thou goesl. And it was thou 
 Didst write soft verses: music too, — thy music. 
 And I thinking I loved thee was betrayed 
 
 \ A thousand times . . and to be scorned — by thee ! 
 
 '• Scorned for another. (IVfcpi.) 
 
 Enter A'. /laUily. 
 N. My Lady, I pray. 
 D. (going off). Nay, sir : I cannot see you. 
 
 N. But listen a moment. Tristram locked me in 
 the cupboard . . . 
 
 D. What is this ? I cannot see you. 
 
 N. But Sir Gregory sent me to entreat an inter- 
 view at once, — he said at once. 
 
 D. Then tell Sir Gregory that I will see him in 
 half an hour ; until that time let no one disturb me on 
 any account, — not even Sir Gregory. [Exit. 
 
 N. I'll be well satisfied. I'll be revenged. 
 To shut me half an hour in a dark cupboard. 
 With all the flock and flue, 'mong cast-off clothes. 
 Old boots and shoes : call me an ass, a goose. 
 And mock my muse . . a fellow . . a common 
 
 fellow. 
 A man that is the servant of the servant 
 Of the adoptive sister of my Laura I 
 He shall be swinged. Sir Gregory will right me : 
 Sir Gregory will avenge me. Had heaven but given me 
 His inches, why, I'd do it myself. I'd flog him, '*"' 
 Till he cried mercy, mercy! mercy, St. Nicholas, 
 Mercy, I pray I No, no : no mercy, sir. 
 Down on thy knees ! No mercy, sir, from me. 
 No mercy, (beating a chair.') 
 
 Enter Sir Gregory. 
 
 G. St. Nicholas, where's the Countess? 
 
 N. (shouting). She says that she will see you in 
 half an hour. 
 
 G. In half an hour ! — Nay, I must see her at once. 
 You have been betrayed. 
 
 N. I have. I have been betrayed. 
 
 But you shall see me avenged. 
 
 G. And I must see her at once, (goingin.) 
 
 N. (withstanding him). She bade me say 
 She could not see you. 
 
 G. Do not slay me, man ; 
 
 Your happiness is at stake. 
 
 N. Nay, she forbade it. 
 
 She said in half an hour. 
 
 G. (half-aside). Why does he stay me? 
 In half an hour he says. What can I do ? 
 By th.at time he'll be olT. (Aloud). St. Nicholas ! 
 His coach is at the door : in half an hour 
 'Twill be too late : He will have got away. 
 Go to the stables, mount yourself at once 
 With three or four of the grooms, and ride together 
 To the further gate of the park. There wait for 
 
 Frederick's carriage : 
 Stop it. If she is within, I give you warrant '^" 
 
 To bring them b.ack : if she be not within. 
 Follow. She awaits him somewhere on the road. 
 Wherever it be, take them, and bring them back : 
 You have a father's warrant. 
 
 N. Who is it you speak of, sir? 
 
 G. Heigh! 
 
 jV. Whose carriage shall I stop? 
 
 G. Why, Frederick's. 
 
 J\l. And who's the lady? 
 
 G. Who is the l.ady, ask you? Why Laura, my 
 daughter. 
 
 N. Laura with Frederick ! 
 
 G. 1 went to her room : she's flown, and with a 
 maifl. 
 She hath packed up clothes and gone. I am right, 
 I am sure.
 
 Act III. 4.] 
 
 A''. And shall I stop them ? 
 
 G. Lose no more time. Hegone ! Do as I bid. 
 
 iV. There's some mistake ; Laura with Frederick ! 
 
 Why we were to be married ! 
 G. Fly ! fly ! St. Nicholas, else 'twill be too late. 
 
 lExil N. 
 The man's a dolt : he'll never be in lime, 
 And I that call him fool, why what am I ? ^"" 
 
 With my grey hairs — and such an idiot. 
 Not to have seen ! And if I had only known 
 That Frederick loved my Laura, and she liim . . . 
 Why did they never tell me ? My dearest Laura, . . 
 To marry without my knowledge, . . . run away 
 Without my blessing ... it shall not be ... as if 
 Against my will . . . not to ask my consent . . 
 And count on my approval. O Laura, Laura ! 
 If I had known — and now no doubt 
 'Tis past all hindrance . . . Am I not a fool 
 To wish to stop them ? Perhaps they have not 
 
 started, 
 I may be in time. I will tell Frederick all, — 
 I do not disapprove . . nay, I approve. 
 'Tis better far . . and yet how can I ? — 
 My word is plighted to St. Nicholas. 
 'Tis better they should get clear off. Heaven speed 
 
 them ! 
 Why did I send that idiot .after them ? 
 I wish they may escape. O Laura, Laura ! 
 Without my blessing. Yet thou hast my blessing. 
 God bless thee ! I try and hinder thee ? O no. 
 I will go stop St. Nicholas. [Htin-ies out. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Frederick's room as before. 
 
 Enter Frederick and Ricardo. 
 
 F. (hastily). Good-bye : I'm off. Speed you as 
 well as I. 
 Laura is to meet me in the park : an hour 
 Will put us out of reach. 
 
 R. Farewell. God speed you ! 
 
 All is prepared at Milan ; and ere you are married, 
 I shall be accepted. 
 
 F. Write me word. 
 
 R. I will. 
 
 F. I'll not believe it till I see your Iiand. 
 
 R. Not if Diana write herself? 
 
 F. To me ? 
 
 That might persuade me. Good luck to you, 
 
 Richard ! 
 And thanks for all your favours. 
 
 R. Favours ! eh ! ^"" 
 
 To an old friend ! Well. Good-bye ! 
 
 F. Good-bye. 
 
 [Taking up coal, Exit. 
 
 R. {leisurely). He's gone. Bravo ! give him two 
 minutes more 
 And he will be clean gone : and when he is gone 
 I shall not fear to tell Diana all. — 
 He is lost to her ; and that I have won her liking 
 Ends her caprice. Now, 'tis my pleasant duty 
 To send my letter to Sir Gregory, (lakes out letter 
 
 and peruses it. ) 
 And open his eyes : he must not be left groping. 
 
 The Humour.'i of the Court. 
 
 177 
 
 {looking it over. ) First who I am ; and what I have 
 
 done, and do 
 To assist his daughter in her happy match. ""^ 
 
 When he knows that, he'll bless me : and he must tell 
 Diana of Frederick's marriage ; but of me 
 Keep counsel awhile — better to put that plainer 
 {goes to inkstand and writes. ) 
 Yet a slight hint of something to Diana, 
 If I could manage it, would serve me well. 
 
 Enter Tristram, 
 {still writing.) Ah, Tristram : come in, Tristram : 
 (aside). This leaky fool is just the man to do it.. — 
 Lend me your company for half an hour. 
 
 T. Your company ! here's wonders. I never 
 knew you ask that before. 'Twas always stand off, 
 Tristram : and you may go, Tristram : and we don't 
 want you, Tristram. What's come to you now, that 
 you ask my company ? 
 
 R. Your master's gone, Tristram ; and I shall feel 
 lonely. 
 
 T. My master is gone : and, as I believe, many 
 thanks to you. I don't know why ever you came 
 here ; but since you came all has gone wrong : there's 
 been more secrets and less sense : and now my 
 m,aster, or I should say, my late master, has quar- 
 relled with the Countess and me; .and I am turned 
 loose on the world. 
 
 A'. Do you want a fresh place, Tristram ? 
 
 T. If I did, you are scarcely the man I should 
 look to ; thank you all the same. 
 
 R. I could give you some good advice. 
 
 T. I don't want your advice neither, sir. 
 
 R. You love secrets, though : I have one I could 
 tell you. 
 
 T. I have had enough of secrets. I wish you 
 could tell me something that isn't a secret. 
 
 R. It's no secret, Tristram, that you love Miss 
 Flora. 
 
 T. No, damn it : but it was a secret : and the 
 best of them all. But now my master's gone, I dare 
 tell you a secret, sir. I alw.iys disliked you extremely 
 from the first : and I don't think better of you now. — 
 I have to put a few things together before the maids 
 come to do the room ; and if you don't go, 1 shall 
 leave you to be dusted out. '^^ 
 
 R. Wait, Tristram : I can teach you better man- 
 ners. And I have a service to ask of you. Here's a 
 purse to help you and Flora, (giving.) 
 
 T. Well, this is a different matter. I am sure, 
 sir, I am very much obliged to you. But I never saw 
 the colour of your money before. (Aside). More 
 ducats ! 
 
 R. No : because you served me better by trying 
 to disoblige me. Now I pay you to oblige me in a 
 trifling matter. 'Tis to find out Sir Gregoiy and 
 deliver this letter to him. 
 
 T. Certainly, sir. Is there .anything else that you 
 may require, sir? 
 
 R. Yes. Just light me a taper, and I'll seal the 
 letter. You see I don't tnist you altogether, Tris- 
 tram : not yet. 
 
 T. You may, sir. I want no more of Mr. Fred- 
 erick's secrets. Not that they were at all times 
 unprofitable, though he never himself gave me a 
 penny on their account. ^"^
 
 178 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act III. 5. 
 
 R. {having sialtii). Here 'tis. Will you please 
 take it at once ? 
 
 T. (taUng). I will, sir. (Asitie). More secrets 
 
 still : and more ducats. [Exit. 
 
 R. Enough should grow to reach Diana's ears 
 From Tristram's curiosity. Meanwhile 
 I'll watch my time. My rival's safely gone . . 
 But how to face Diana ? 1 think 'tis best 
 To take her by surprise : a weaker force 
 Then overwhelms. I will go change my dress. "''" 
 
 \_E.xil. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Tfie kail upstairs, or other room in palace. 
 
 Tristram and Flora meeting. 
 
 T. Ha, Flora ! where's Sir Gregory ? What red 
 eyes : blubbering ! 
 
 Ft. I am discharged, Tristram, discharged. The 
 Countess has discharged me for keeping company 
 with you. And she has been crying too, to have to 
 part with me. What ever will come to us? 
 
 T. What matters ? I'll cheer tliee, girl. Look 
 here ! More money. There's five pieces of gold : 
 and all for carrying this letter to Sir Gregory. Where 
 is he? 
 
 Ft. Who gave it you ? 
 
 T. That Mr. Ricardo. It's a mystery, Flora : 
 but there's something in it, I do believe. 
 
 Ft. Mr. Ricnrdo? 
 
 T. Ay. Who should he be that scatters gold, 
 and seals with a crown, look ! and says that he will 
 find us new places, and all sorts of fine promises? 
 A man tliat would flick me away whenever I came 
 near him. 
 
 Fl. Did he, Tristram ? ^sso 
 
 T. Ay, that he would. But I heard him say 
 once that he came here for his cure. I take it he's 
 cured now ; and he would make friends 'all on a 
 sudden, and begs me kindly carry this to Sir Gregory. 
 'Tis his farewell no doubt. He will go home, and 
 take me with him. 
 
 Fl. And me too? 
 
 7". Not if you blubber. Wliere's Sir Gregory. 
 
 Fl. I don't know. The Countess has bid me go 
 seek Lady Laura. 
 
 T. Come! I'll with you as far as the libraiy, 
 where I think I should find the old gentleman. 
 
 \_E.xeunt. 
 
 Enler Diana. 
 
 D. Rejected ! by the man I loved rejected : 
 Despised by hijn, and by myself betrayed ! 
 And all will know it — I could not hide it. 
 
 Our nature hath this need : woman must love. 
 But oh ! to have made my idol of a stone. 
 To my worship a deaf unanswering stone ! 
 At last I am cured. Since not my rank suffices 
 To set me above the rules I gave my maids, ^®** 
 
 I'll never love. Am I to stan<l and wait, 
 Till some man fancy me, and then to melt 
 And conjure inclination at a nod ? 
 O man, thou art our god : the almighty's curse 
 Crowns thee our master : from the green-sick girl 
 That mopes in worship of the nearest fool, 
 
 To the poor jaded wife of thirty years 
 
 Who dotes upon her striker, 'tis the same. . . 
 
 That's not for me. Nay give it up altogether : 
 
 Go free. If man's so base ; if that high passion. 
 
 That spirit-ecstasy, that supersensual. 
 
 Conscious devotion of divinity 
 
 Of which I dreamed, is only to be found 
 
 In books of fanciful philosophy, 
 
 Or tales of pretty poets . . why then away 
 
 With books and men ! my life henceforth shall prove 
 
 Woman is self-sufficing : in my court 
 
 No man shall step, save such as may be needed 
 
 To show my spirit holds them in contempt. 
 
 Women shall be my friends and women only ; '^'' 
 
 .\nd I shall find allies. I had in Laura 
 
 .A.11 that I could desire, a friend, unselfish. 
 
 Devoted, grateful, and as yet untainted 
 
 By any folly of love : and her I schemed 
 
 To marry away. 'Tis not too late : I'll save her : 
 
 She shall not be enslaved : she doth not love. 
 
 Her heart is free and generous ; it has shrunk 
 
 By instinct from the yoke : she will join with me ; 
 
 .■\nd if I tell her all, — or if she have guessed, — 
 
 Now when I tell her she will comfort me. 
 
 Comfort and counsel, friendship, that I need 
 
 And she can give. I never will part from her. 
 
 Enter Flora. 
 
 Fl. Oh, my lady : the Lady Laura is gone, she 
 has run away. 
 
 D. Run away ! 
 
 Fl. Sir Gregory is coming to tell you all about it. 
 She has run away with Mr. Frederick. 
 
 D. Nonsense I How dare you tell me . . . 
 
 Fl. I guess it's true though. I remember now I 
 used to say how strange it was that such a sweet lady, 
 and so clever and proper a geiuleman as . . . 
 
 D. Silence, Flora 1 What has come to you ? 
 What makes you s.ay this? 
 
 Ft. Because she's not to be found. But Sir 
 Gregory will tell you. 
 
 D. Send Sir Gregory at once. {.■IsiJc). This is 
 impossible, impossible. 
 
 Ft. Ste here he comes. 
 
 D. {aside). Ah ! if this were Frederick's secret ! 
 
 Enter Sir Gregory. 
 
 What is it? Sir Gregory, tell me. "^ 
 
 G. I scarce dare tell your ladyship the tidings 
 I have to bear. 
 
 D. {aside). It's true ! it's true I 
 
 G. My daughter 
 
 Has run away with Frederick. 
 
 {Diana sinl;s on a chair ; Flora runs to fan her.) 
 ."Vh ! my lady ! 
 What have I done ? I was too quick. 
 
 D. Nay, nay. 
 
 Flora, begone. I can hear all. You knew it ? 
 
 G. I had not the least suspicion of the truth ; 
 Altho' it needed but the merest trille 
 To clear my sight. I chanced to find her glove 
 In Frederick's room. All fi.ishcd upon me at once. 
 I ran to seek her. .She was gone. A message 
 .She left was given mc, that she would be away 
 All the afternoon : but since she had taken with her 
 A valise . . .
 
 Act III. 5.] 
 
 7'Ae Hianours of the Court. 
 
 179 
 
 D. She, 'twas she ... O most dissembling, 
 Ungenerous, ungrateful . . 
 
 /'/. I said 'twas true. 
 
 I>. Begone at once 1 bid you. [Exit Flora. 
 
 G. I ran in haste 
 
 To tell your ladysliip ; but for some reason 
 Could not be admitted : so I took such steps 
 To arrest them as I might . . 
 
 D. Ha I they are seized ? 
 
 G. I have since repented of my haste : a letter 
 Put in my hands reveals the whole : 'tis passed °*-° 
 Beyond prevention. It has been maturing 
 Under our eyes for months. We must give way. 
 'Tis strange we never guessed it. This very morning 
 I was in Laura's room ; and when we parted 
 She made such long farewells, and looked at me 
 With such reluctance, and such brimming eyes, 
 I saw she had some trouble untold ; and thinking 
 'Twas her dislike of Nicholas, I repented 
 I had ever urged the match. I little thought, 
 Dear girl, 'twas sorrow that she dared not tell me 
 Her joy. 
 
 D. {aside). Her joy ! no doubt ! Here's a fine 
 father ! 
 What doth he wish ? Ah, doubly have I been fooled. 
 How plain 'tis now to see. The only one 
 I have never once suspected ; the only one 
 It could have been. And Frederick must have told 
 
 her 
 My love of him. All I would have kept secret 
 And thought was hid, hath been as open as day : 
 And what I sought to learn hath been kept from me 
 By them I trusted to discover it. 
 
 Tristram, no doubt, whom I supposed a fool, ^^° 
 
 Hath merely played with me. Thank heaven they 
 
 are gone. 
 I'll never see him again. Befooled : befooled. 
 
 G. They have been befriended by the duke of 
 Milan. 
 
 D. The duke of Milan too ! 
 
 G. It was his letter 
 
 I spake of. Frederick is, he tells me there. 
 His old school-friend ; he begs my pardon for him. 
 Will fete the bride and bridegroom in his palace. 
 And have the Archbishop marry them. "Tis thither 
 They are fled. 
 
 D. Then all this is a plot of the Duke's ! 
 
 G. [aside). I dare not tell her more. 
 
 D. Who brought the letter? 
 
 G. I wish my dear girl joy. She has chosen well. 
 
 D. Who brought the letter ? 
 
 G. Tristram gave it me. 
 
 D. ijialf-aside). How came he by it ? 
 
 Enter Tristram. 
 
 T. My lady ! I have something now. 
 
 D. Tristram, I bade you leave the court : how 
 dare you 
 Appear before me again ? 
 
 Silence, I say ! I know your news : you have served 
 Your master with such lying skill, I wonder 
 He did not take you and your Flora with him : 
 There was not room enough perhaps in the coach 
 For two such couples. 
 
 T. ' How, if you please, my lady, "*''' 
 
 Are Flora and I two couples ? 
 
 jD. Silence. Tell me 
 
 How you get letters from the Duke of Milan. 
 
 T. How I get letters from the Duke of Milan? 
 
 D. There's nothing now to hide, so tell the truth. 
 
 T, I swear, my lady, that I know no more 
 Of the duke of Milan than a babe unborn. 
 Your ladyship accused me once before 
 Of having been at Milan, when 'twas plain 
 That I had not gone, and never wished to go. 
 Knowing my lady's strong impartiality, '^'' 
 
 I should not venture. 
 
 D. This will not do. 
 
 Enter Ricardo. 
 
 {G, beckons T. aside, and during D.'s first speech 
 
 -tuhispers hi/n^ and G. and T. go out.) 
 
 J?. My lady. 
 The culprit is discovered. 
 
 V. Ah, Ricardo ! 
 
 I had forgot . . was this thy plan ? . . if so 
 I cannot praise thy skill sufficiently. 
 All hath gone well. And since no doubt thou hast 
 
 served 
 Thy master and his friend in all thou hast done, 
 And under the pretence of aiding me 
 Hast been the ready man, more than another, 
 To practise on me, and do me injury ; 
 I'll school my patience till I have satisfied 
 My curiosity to know what thought 
 Urged thee, — whom I confess I wholly trusted. 
 And whom I thought to have made my friend, — that 
 
 thus 
 Against the laws of hospitality. 
 Without the excuse of passion, thou shouldst wrong 
 A lady so unkindly. 
 
 A'. Ah, Diana ! 
 
 Hast thou not guessed my secret ? 
 
 Z>. By heaven, sir, 
 
 Did the Duke send thee here to insult me too ? 
 
 J\. Dearest Diana, I am the duke of Milan. 
 
 D. Ha! thou! Thy face behind the bush. 'Tis 
 thou. 
 Should I have known it ? No. I can thank God 
 I knew it so little. By help tho' of thy acts 
 I recognize your grace. 'Tis like thee indeed. 
 That hast not scrupled thus to steal upon me 
 Masked and disguised ; by forgery and falsehood, 
 Written recommendations of thyself. 
 Making thee out to be some gentleman ^<*'" 
 
 Of trust and honour. Oh 'tis admirable, 
 The use thou makest of thy rank, to creep 
 Into my secresy, tliereby to assist 
 Thy friend, my secretary, to elope 
 With an orphan and my ward. Haste, haste ! I bid 
 
 thee ; 
 Lest thou be late for the feast. Bear them from me 
 My glad congratulations, (sinks on a chair.) 
 
 J\. (running to her). Di.ina! Diana! 
 
 D. I need no aid from thee, sir. Nay, begone ! 
 
 A'. In kindness hear what I came here to say. 
 In justice hear my answer to the charges 
 Thou hast made. But first I claim my promise. 
 
 D. How ! 
 
 What promise, sir ? 
 
 A' Your secretary's place 
 
 If Frederick left.
 
 i8o 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 [Act III. 5. 
 
 D. Make you me still your jest ? 
 
 J\. O dearest Diana, think not tliat I jest. 
 I'd be thy secretary all my life, *"" 
 
 So I might only take the place which Frederick 
 Held in thy alTections. 
 
 D. (rising). In my affections ! why, 
 
 What means your grace, I beg ? 
 
 R. Uiana, Diana ! 
 
 Have I not won thee? Did I not obey thee 
 By silence and long absence, till my life 
 Grew desperate, and my misery made me bold 
 To come to thee disguised? I thought that thou 
 Perchance wert adverse to my suit for thinking 
 I loved thee only for thy beauty's sake, — 
 Since at first sight I loved and only sight, — 
 And for thy mind's grace thou wert rightly jealous 
 Of such a passion. Now, if I guess well, 
 I have won some favour in these happy days . . . 
 
 D. Favour ! 
 
 a. And if thou hast dreamed thou hast loved 
 
 another, 
 'Tis no impediment : for first this man, ^™" 
 
 Whom thou hast honoured is my nearest friend ; 
 And not to have loved him were to have disregarded 
 The only part of me thou ever knewest. 
 But him, for very lack of loving rightly 
 Thou hast much mistaken and wronged, and, as I 
 
 think, 
 Now for misunderstanding bearest ill-will. 
 
 D. I bear him no ill-will, your grace. 
 
 A'. Nor me ? 
 
 D. But what you have done ? 
 
 R. Love can excuse me all. 
 
 What woman judges by proprieties 
 The man wlio would die for her, and who without her 
 Regards not life? P.assion atones my fault. 
 
 Z). Your only excuse is your offence. 
 
 A'. 'Tis thus : 
 
 If I am not pardoned, I am not loved ; but if 
 I am loved, I am pardoned. If thou sayst to me 
 I never knew thee, but I know thee now. 
 And like thee not : thy three years' love for me 
 I count for nothing, thy devotion nothing, 
 Thy misery nothing : thy adventure here 
 I set against thee ; and the hour thou goest 
 I shall lose nothing : If thou canst say this, '''■''° 
 
 Speak . . and 1 promise 
 To turn away for ever. Is that thy mind ? 
 
 D. Is't possible ? 
 
 K. What possible? 
 
 D. Thy tnitli. 
 
 Ji. My love? Nay, love's a miracle, a thing 
 That cannot be where it seems possible, 
 And where 'tis most incredible is most worth 
 Our credit. 
 
 D. That is true. 
 
 A'. ^ That thou didst doubt 
 
 Was wortliy of the greatness of my love. 
 Hut now I claim thy faith. Thou mayst believe. 
 Thou must believe. Indeed, indeed, Diana, 
 Thou mayst believe. Look's! thou to find love 
 
 strong ? 
 I have heavenly security: — devoted? 
 I have no self but thee :— jiatient ? I plead 
 Three years of patience : — humble ? I was content 
 To be thv servant : — wise? I knew thee better 
 
 Than thou thyself; I knew that thou must love : 
 Or is love tender? — .See my childish tears 
 Crowd now to hear my sentence. 
 
 D. Ah, this were love. 
 
 If it were so. 
 
 A'. Diana, it is so. 
 
 There is nought to-day in all the world but this, *"" 
 I love thee. 
 
 D. Alas ! how was I wrong I Sir, sir ! 
 Thou bringst me, or at least thou seemst to bring me, 
 The gift of God. Whether it be so or no 
 How can I tell? 'Twould wrong it — nay I cannot 
 Take it in haste. I cannot. I understand. 
 Nay, leave me. I know not what to say . . your 
 
 blind 
 .Attachment is't not cured ? 
 
 R. Cure all but that 
 
 By my acceptance, (kneels.) I am thy true lover, 
 Tliy only lover. Bid me rise beloved. 
 
 D. Hush, some one comes. Rise ! rise ! 
 
 A'. Thy hand ! 'lis mine, 'tis mine. 
 (Kisses it ami rises.) 
 
 Enter St. Nicholas with Gregory. Frederick and 
 Laura following. 
 
 N. They are caught, your ladyship : they are 
 caught, 
 Driving .aw.ay together : and Frederick 
 W'as making love to Laura in the coach. 
 
 R. Now now ! how's this ? Frederick so soon 
 returned ; 
 .•\nd laken by the honeysucker ! 
 
 N. Sir, 
 
 Your honeysucking Frederick would have robbed 
 My sweetest fiower : but like a skimming swallow 
 That lakes a fly in his beak, I snapped him up 
 At the park gate. 
 
 A'. He'll prove a bitter morsel, 
 
 I fear, St. Nicholas. 
 
 N. My lady, speak. 
 
 What sh.all be done to them that h.ive infringed 
 The laws of the court ? Whatever punishmeul, 
 I pray it fall on Frederick with more weight 
 Than on my Laura. I would not have such rigour 
 As might defer our marriage. 
 
 (G. goes io l. R. to F.) 
 
 D. I shall award my jiulgment on you two. 
 Who have mocked not my rules only, but the common 
 Conventions of society, antl preferring 
 Tlie unwritten st.itutes of the court of Milan """ 
 
 H.ave joined to act a lie, and me, your friend, 
 Deceived and wronged, whom ye had done well to 
 
 trust. 
 One only honour.ible course is left — 
 My judgment on you is that you be married 
 .•\s soon as may be. Tlierefore, l'"rederick, 
 I beg that you will draw the contract up 
 Between yourself and Laura with all speed. 
 And that my sister shall not lack a jiortion, 
 I will endow her with as goodly a sum 
 As what St. Nicholas promised. Now this lime 
 Let there be no mistake. 
 
 -Y. What's this. Sir Gregory? 
 
 I, annot you hear? 
 
 /'. Your ladysliip, 1 am bound 
 
 For ever to your service.
 
 Act III. 5.] 
 
 The Humours of the Court. 
 
 181 
 
 Z. (to D.). Am I forgiven, Diana? 
 
 F. [to A'.). Richard, how's this? 
 
 /". (to F.). I have won. {aloud.) And let me 
 say 
 That 1 for friendship's sake will do as much ^'-^ 
 
 Toward Lady Laura's portion as tlie Countess. 
 
 N. Sir Gregory . . Sir Gregory ! 
 Is this the way I am treated ? You do not hear ? 
 Sir Gregory, speak ! 
 
 G. (to N.). I hear not what is said, St. Nicholas : 
 But I can see : and since you have caught your bride 
 Rimning away, you must not look to me 
 
 To help you hold her. Surely wliat I promised 
 I promised in good faith : but what hath happened 
 Sets me at liberty. (Laura goes to Grigory.) 
 
 N. And 1 am left out? 
 
 Am I a sacrifice ? 
 
 D. Sir, be consoled : 
 
 You were not more deceived than I. 
 
 N. At least 
 
 Tristram shall not escape. I do beseech you 
 He may be punished for stealing my sonnet, 
 
 And shutting me in the cupboard. 
 
 Enter Tristram ami Flora. 
 
 D. Who come here ? 
 
 T. and Ft. My lady, we ask for pardon. 
 
 R. I take on me 
 
 To speak for them. 
 
 D. No need for that, your grace ; 
 
 They are forgiven. 
 
 N. Why doth she say ' your grace ' ? 
 
 T. (to H.). Ah, why 'your grace' indeed? 
 
 /i'. This Tristram here 
 
 llath done us many a service. Flora too 
 Hath played a useful part. May not their marriage 
 Follow on ours, Diana ? 
 
 N. Yours ! 
 
 T. (to audience sympathetically). Ilis ! 
 
 D. They may have so mucli promise with all my 
 heart. 
 
 T. Thank you, my lady. 
 I never did understand anything in the " Humours of 
 this Court," and I never shall. ^''" 
 
 fiSSS- 
 
 NOTE. — The Humours of the Court is founded on two Spanish comedies., which when I read 
 them, appeared to me to be variations of the same story. These are Calderon's El secreto d voces, 
 and Lope's El perro del hortelano ; the latter already used by Molifere. My play owes its plot 
 to Calderon, and to Lope the first scene of its third act, which is the opening scene of El perro del 
 hortelano. But since in that play the secretary is actually detected iti what, in my play, he is 
 only falsely suspected of, and yet, in spite of this, is married by Lope to the Countess, it may be 
 judjred that Lope's //(TV is something farcical. I believe this is a full statement of my indebtedness, 
 for where I have borrowed incident I have not, that I remember, translated. 
 
 Vattcndon, 1S93.
 
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