Chapter V: Part 5

_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. 1621

_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: 1630
I shall set guard within. Eleven’s the time.

_L._ (_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.

_NICHOLAS._

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 1640
The nightingale forlorn that steal to woo her.

_D._ That’s very well. But I now, by my name,
Should be your moon.

_N._ I have a verse to fit. [_Reciting._
The flowers 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. shews papers._

_GREGORY._

I much regret 1650
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. 1660

_L._ (_to N._). The day is fixed, and there my father sits
Reading the settlement: what would you more?

_N._ O Laura,
More gracious words. Who that now heard us talk
Would guess we were to marry in two days?

_L._ 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....

_L._ Who wants emperors?

_N._ Or even a prince.

_L._ 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?

_L._ Human affairs are ever so uncertain,— 1671
And one of us might die,—and if ’twas you,
Think how much 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. 1680

_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
’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._) Your ladyship, 1690
I cannot sign this contract—the provision
I look for is not here; the scribe has blundered.
This is no settlement at all. Who 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 you sure, Sir Gregory,
’Tis as you say?

_N._ (_to Gregory_). Will you not sign the contract?

_G._ (_rising_). I cannot sign it.

_D._ 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 1701
These lovers. [_Beckons G. off. Exeunt D. and 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 husbands, and I promise
To love mine when I am married; yes, as well 1710
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. I could see well enough
Thou wert not sorry when Sir Gregory said
He would not sign. I know 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 1720
Distrustful and impatient. Prithee go,
Busy yourself to get your clothes in fashion:
In two days is my marriage; after that—

_N._ Well!

_L._ After that all shall seem different.

_N._ I made a sonnet of my love for thee,
And would have given it.

_L._ 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 it.

_L._ Frederick! nonsense, sir!
Some one is coming. Excuse me. [_Exit._ 1730

_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 rebuffs. What wit she hath!
My Laura! Wit is admirable in woman,
It is so rare; and ’tis the salt of marriage.

_Frederick and Ricardo have re-entered._

_R._ (_to F._). Here’s our belated bee, let’s go elsewhere.

_F._ Nay, drive him to his hole. 1740

_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, 1750
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. [_Exit._

_R._ You poets treat each other vilely.

_F._ Now, Richard. 1759

_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 1761
Such a reception and fair bridal trim,
And high festivities as shall dress out
The hasty manner of your coming.

_F._ But first,
How shall I make my escape? I am watched, suspected.

_R._ I can arrange that too. By my behaviour
And letter to the 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 1771
How to convey your lady to the carriage,
And all is done.

_F._ What shall I do with Tristram?

_R._ Leave him to me: my purse will settle him.

_F._ ’Tis excellently schemed; but if Diana
Press me to tell how I obtained the letter,
What can I say?

_R._ She is easily put off:
That question does not touch her. Any tale
Will serve.

_F._ Yet, Richard, what so generously
You do for me must ruin you with her. 1780
Is’t possible you are cured!

_R._ No, no: mistake not!
I am more and more in love: and see my way
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 thee, thee the worthiest,
Dearest and nearest of my earliest friends,
Is no impediment. Is’t not half way
To loving me? ’Tis happy for me, Frederick,
Thou hast not seen her worth.

_F._ And I half question 1790
Whether ’tis not my duty as friend of both
To close with her and save you.

_R._ 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; 1801
’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 unparallel’d,—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 1811
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. 1820

_Re-enter Diana with papers in hand. Laura and Flora._

_D._ Frederick!

_F._ Your ladyship!

_D._ This settlement
Is but waste 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 my mistake.

_D._ Stay, I have more against thee. 1830
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 affairs I have set
No limit to my trust: I have ever shewn 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 1840
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 1851
Requiring speedy answer. I procured
That answer in good time.

_D._ Ah, but thou saidst
That thou 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 carriest with thee.

_F._ I have no papers, madam,
Such as you look to find.

_D._ Thou sayst that letter 1860
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; 1870
Here the contents. (_Offers a few 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. 1880
’Tis but this little case. (_Shews case of portrait._)

_D._ A portrait-case?

_F._ A portrait.

_D._ Ah, then, now we have the truth:
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 falsehood.
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— 1890
So tell me who the lady is.

_L._ (_aside to R._). All’s lost!

_F._ (_coming quite to front_). Your ladyship must grant
me in private conduct
Some liberty: my honest duty and service
Never surrendered that, and should avail
To spare me this ungenerous inquisition.

_D._ And very well, sir, if thou hast not transgressed
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, 1900
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.

_R._ I fear, my lady,
I have too short acquaintance with the rules 1910
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 forward to F._)

(_Aside._) All’s lost unless I do it.
(_To F._) Sir, give it to me.
Judgment hath gone against you. I can promise
No eye shall learn thy secret but the Countess.
To her ’tis due. So give her up the portrait. 1920
(_Aside to F._) I will exchange them.—

_F. gives L. the portrait: which the spectators see 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! 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 me!
This I was told; but tho’my own eyes see it,
I cannot credit it. O, gracious sir, 1930
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 stuff, 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! now I’m sorry for thee; 1940
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!

_R._ 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, 1951
He must have told her of it.

_Re-enter Laura._

_L._ The Countess, Frederick,
Bids me return the portrait. You may die
To look on it, she says,—here ’tis. (_Giving her own._)

_F._ Be sure
This is the right one. Well: she says not ill. (_Kissing it._)

_L._ I tremble still.

_F._ O, you did well.

_L._ To-night
Be in the park again—under my window—
I am set to watch for you.

_F._ You!

_L._ Yes,—by Diana.
Eleven,—I dare not stay. Farewell till then. [_Exit._

_F._ Well, there’s the end of it, Richard. 1960

_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 to work on; but this foolery
Is bottomless.

_Re-enter Flora._

_Fl._ (_to R._). Her ladyship has sent
To beg you await her, sir. She hath a matter
To speak of with you in private.

_R._ Bear my respects 1970
Back to your mistress;—say I await her here.

[_Exit Flora._

See how I prosper. Get you gone, while I
Step in your shoes.

_F._ Richard, do not be rash:
And if you find she is cured, leave well alone.

_R._ 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,
Which jealousy hath magnified to passion:
And now she eyes him as the fox the grapes, 1980
And 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.

_Re-enter Diana._

_D._ How now, Ricardo? I have not done laughing 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
By this discovery?

_D._ Clearly; all is explained.
I came to tell you the campaign is over. 1990
Finding there’s nought to seek, the search is ended.
The wonder is, Tristram had solved the mystery,
And told me; but I laughed.

_R._ Now you believe?

_D._ Ha! ha!

_R._ How you must now despise him!

_D._ I do, indeed.

_R._ You laugh. ’Tis strange that it should please you.

_D._ Ah!
I laugh to think there was no cause for all
My....

_R._ Your....

_D._ My needless trouble, my anxiety.

_R._ Anxiety,—you mean, lest?...

_D._ 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. 2001

_D._ I was deceived,
But now I understand.

_R._ Your ladyship,
I think, is more mistaken now than ever.
Frederick hath told me himself that he is in love;
And that’s the truth, both likely, and well-confirmed,
Even by the 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. 2010

_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 2020
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! if I have betrayed myself—
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. 2030

_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 sprung 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. 2041
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.

_D._ And that?

_R._ To send him away.

_D._ To send him away? Of course I might; I’ll do it:
To-night, Ricardo.

_R._ (_aside_). Now we go too fast— 2049
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 Laura 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. 2060
Nor can I do without him. In two days 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
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?

_R._ Not to ask a favour 2070
Of one whom you so hotly have charged with wrong.

_D._ I would not.

_R._ Sir Gregory then must do his best.

_D._ ’Tis no solution that.

_R._ 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 could not tell
To another.

_R._ (_aside_). I win. But she must ask me herself.

_D._ I think I might accept.—What say you?

_R._ My lady,
I see one difficulty,—I have offered more 2080
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?

_R._ 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-morrow he goes. If you will act in his place—
For some ten days, say?

_R._ Longer, if it should please you.

_D._ I thank you, I shall not need it. 2090

_R._ But if....

_D._ If what?

_R._ 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.

_R._ But may I hope?

_D._ In truth I know of none
I’d rather see in his place.

_R._ 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—

_R._ Agreed then that to-night 2100
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....

_D._ 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 we of this—
But I have been much deceived.—Be not concerned,
’Tis nothing. [_Faints._

_R._ (_supporting her to a chair_). Flora!—Here is a
chair, my lady, 2111
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!

_Re-enter Flora._

_Fl._ My lady in one of her fits!

_R._ 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!

_D._ (_awakening_). Who’s there? Ah, Flora!

_Fl._ My lady
Has fainted again.

_D._ Ricardo!—yes, I remember. 2120
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 thank you. Good evening, sir.

_R._ 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 has 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 for his marriage
With Lady Laura. Yes, and thanks to her 2132
For being so ready; and to St. Nicholas
For setting her on: for he in the end appears
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 · 1

_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 TRISTRAM and FLORA hurriedly_ (R.).

_FLORA._

Fly, Tristram, down the stairs: she is coming.

_TRISTRAM._

O, wala! wala! If she has seen us—

_Fl._ Quick! And dout the lamp. [_Exit_ R. 2140

_T._ O, wala! wala!

[_Exit down the stairs, back, making a great noise; the lamp suddenly
goes out._

_Enter Diana in robe-de-chambre, with a lamp in her hand._

_DIANA._

Stop, sir! stop, stop! I see you: I bid you stop.
Flora, Flora!—I’ll ring the alarm. [_Pulls a rope._
Will no one come?

_Enter Ricardo_ (L.).

_RICARDO._

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. 2145
Bring him back here. Quick!

_R._ Down the stairs?

_D._ Quick, quick!

[_Exit R. at back._

Is this the way I am treated? and not a servant!
Flora! Come, Flora! Flora! is no one awake?

_Enter_ (L.) _St. Nicholas hurriedly, half-dressed, carrying suits of clothes, a dressing-case, etc._

_D._ Stay, sir! where go you?

_ST. NICHOLAS._

Fire! fire! The palace is on fire! Fly, fly! 2150

_D._ Stay, sir, I say: the house is not on fire.

_N._ Where is the fire? Mercy! O, heaven save me!

_D._ There is no fire at all.

_N._ 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!

_D._ Nonsense, St. Nicholas; we need no swords.
Go, wake Sir Gregory, and send him here:
Send him at once. [_Exit N._ (L.)

_Re-enter Ricardo_ (_back_).

Were you too late, Ricardo? 2160
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?—

_D._ Ricardo, go and fetch Sir Gregory; 2171
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_ (L.)

_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? 2181

_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 major-domo
At last. Come in, Sir Gregory, come: you are wanted.

_Sir GREGORY._

I 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 2190
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 2200
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 Exit, 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.— 2210

(_The maids are congregated at back,_ R. _as they come out of the passage. They stand forth 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. 2215

_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?

_KATE._

No, my lady.

_D._ Nothing at all?

_K._ Nothing at all, my lady.

_D._ Wert thou asleep?

_K._ I was asleep, my lady. 2220

_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._ I did not ask
If you deceived me. Heard you any noise?
Did you see any man?

_Fl._ Not I, my lady.

_Dor._ (_aside to K._). Oh! oh!

_D._ Were you asleep?

_Fl._ I was asleep, my lady.

_D._ Then stand aside.

_Fl._ (_aside to K._). Did she believe me?

_K._ (_to Fl._). Well!
Thou’st got a brazen face!

_Dor._ (_do._). Art thou not shamed?

_D._ Marcela next. Didst thou hear anything?

_MARCELA._

I heard no noise until my lady called. 2231

_D._ Thou wert asleep?

_Mar._ I was asleep, my lady.

_D._ ’Tis strange. Stand thou aside.

_Dor._ (_aside_). Now then for Rose.

_Mar._ (_do._). She really was asleep.

_Fl._ (_do._). Then what shall come?

_D._ Now, Rose, thou’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.

_ROSE._

My lady, I have no lover. 2140

_D._ Tell me who this man was.

_Rose._ 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 are 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 2250
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?

_Fl._ It’s me, my lady. I must confess.

_D._ Flora!

_Fl._ 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._ Engaged!—to you!
Here’s a fine story!

_R._ (_aside_). She has not said his name. 2259

_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!

_D._ And speak of marriage, you impertinent hussy!

_Fl._ It was the money which your ladyship gave him,
That made us think of marrying.

_D._ Worse and worse!
To spend my present on my waiting-maid.—
O thy pretension! thy pretension! Think you
He really loves you?

_Fl._ Why not?

_Maids._ Ay, why not? 2270

_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.

_Fl._ He calls me his little love,—his duck: 2275
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. You are all alike disgraced. 2282
And, that you are not more shamed, disgraced the more.
I shall discharge you all.

_Kate._ What! and Rose too!

_D._ To-morrow morning. Bút, Flóra, for you
I cannot think of punishment sufficient.
Merely to have had a lover,—to have concealed it,—
To have even admitted him by night,—were nothing,
Had the affair been....

_Re-enter Sir Gregory up the stairs with Tristram’s hat,
holding it up._

_G._ Found on the stairs,—the intruder’s hat, my lady: 2290
He had thrown it on the lamp to extinguish it,
And thereby is detected.

_R._ (_aside_). Now’s revelation.

_D._ Why,—but whose hat is this?

_Fl._ ’Tis his, my lady.

_R._ Is not this Tristram’s hat?

_D._ (_aside_). Hath he come hither in his servant’s
clothes?

_Fl._ It’s Tristram’s hat.

_K._ At least what’s left of it.

_D._ Came he disguised?

_Fl._ ’Twas thus, my lady. As he ran down the stairs,
I bade him dout the lamp. I did not mean
That he should burn his hat.

_D._ (_aside_). What can this be?
It can’t have been Tristram.—Answer me, Flora:
Was it master Tristram visited you to-night? 2301

_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.

_Fl._ 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.

[_Exeunt maids except Fl._

(_Aside._) Thank heaven they have not guessed ... and
yet how nearly 2310
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! [_Exit Fl._
(_To R._) What think you of this, Ricardo? 2320

_R._ ’Tis the wrong fox we have hunted.

_D._ Ah, I think
Fox is the word. I half believe that Frederick
And Tristram are in league.

_R._ I guessed the truth
When Flora first confessed.

_D._ I was too hot.

_R._ 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 retire.

_D._ Yes, true, Sir Gregory.
’Tis time, high time. And let this trophy here
Be sent to its owner; and to-morrow morning 2330
Bid him come speak with me. Tell him, Ricardo.
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 with 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 Gregory, 2341
Shalt be my major-domo.

_G._ Eigh!

_R._ (_taking his arm_). I say,
Sir Gregory, I’ll have you for my major-domo.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE · 2

_Frederick’s room; open portmanteaus, &c. lying about. Near the fireplace R. is a cupboard with key in lock. A table in centre._

_Enter FREDERICK carrying music, and TRISTRAM._

_FREDERICK._

All my clothes are in, you say, Tristram?

_TRISTRAM._

Everything, sir.

_F._ You pack well, Tristram: put in these. (_handing music._) Is there
room for the music?

_T._ Anything, sir. Lie there, ye wrigglers. (_begins to sing to
himself._)

_F._ And this book.

_T._ Where is it you may be going, if you please,
sir? 2350

_F._ Never mind. You pack very well, Tristram. I shall miss you.

_T._ If the Countess 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. 2360

_F._ Give me the key. Now, Tristram, I understand that the Countess has
dismissed you from her household. That saves me explanation. Here’s
your wages (_puts money on the table_) for the current quarter. 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; 2375
_And what God willeth_, Tristram, _needs must be,
After the opinion of certain clerkës_.

_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 me: 2380
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, pried 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.

_T._ What is’t to do?

_F._ ’Tis this. An hour from hence I must be off.
St. Nicholas will likely enough be here 2391
After his marriage settlement. Now, Tristram,
He must not find 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. [_Exit._

_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
’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 me, 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 and 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._

_ST. NICHOLAS._

Tristram! Where’s your master?

_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
speak poetry. 2430

_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 invitation,
engaged on my own affairs, which do not need
assistance.

_N._ I came to see your master on important business,
Tristram. Be civil enough to tell me where he is.

_T._ My master 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 back your sonnet, if you will
write me a poem about my hat, this hat. ’Tis but to
versify my own imaginations. See! I am the hat: the
hole 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._ Curse 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? 2460

_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! 2470

_N._ By heaven, I cannot 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 and 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 please him again. 2480

_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.

_T._ 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! ’Tis more
kicks than half-pence, as they say. If you will be quiet,
I will give you back your sonnet. (_Takes it out and
reads_)—

_Master of mine, remember for pitie._

Ha! 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 willowed Archdelight, whose eyes are dim
With gazing on a book of writhing flame:_ 2501

My stars! and no wonder neither.

_And with him Hope, the stringless harp-player,
Himself an embelem, 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 take
it back? If I have not charmed him to sleep with his
own verses! Ha! he bites—he lives. (_N. pulls it to
him from within._) (_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 down_). 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 Ricardo, I suppose. Come in!

_Enter Sir Gregory._

_GREGORY._

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? 2530

_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. G. sits to table, T. takes doublet from table. The glove 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. (_pretends to busy himself. N. makes a great knocking._)

_G._ Come in! There is some one at the door, Tristram.

_T._ _shakes._

_G._ I think there is. (_goes to the door and 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 it?

_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. (_Passing the cupboard,
to N._) Thou silly! he’ll never mind thee.

_N._ Curse you, Tristram!

_T._ Hush thee, my babe. [_Exit._