GRIMES. Then, mocking sir, know this. I do despise (Sarcastically.) Though men most foully have denounced me such! And if thy life depend on living here I chase thee hence, that thou mayest quicker die! Some ruined knave has goaded on this fool Margaret ! (Calls.) (Sees flowers.) Plague on the world! Ah! (Enter Margaret R. Grimes picks up the flowers.) Margaret, I am bound this night for Guernsey; And to thy care and oft-tried prudence Do I consign my little girl. I fear a strange bird's singing in the hedge: MARGARET. Oh, fear me not; I know the way to work! GRIMES. And that thy work may look most smilingly, (Gives a purse.) Take this for thy own use. Sir William Stanton Is the gentleman that must be married As you go out, send Iola to me. (Exit Margaret R. H.) And my whole heart weighed down with heaviness, Beneath whose influence I am to sink! But then that sum of gold! Too much to lose, Iola, farewell! You'll show your duty (Enter Iola R. H.) Sir William Stanton,-he must have your hand! IOLA. (Showing flowers.) In all things, oh, my father!—all things ELSE My fondest, GRIMES. Wilt have these flowers? Some saucy cavalier, IOLA (taking flowers). I love all flowers so very, very much, I'll keep them for thy sake. How sweet they smell! Shall you be long away? GRIMES. Perhaps ten days. Farewell! IOLA (hanging on his neck, and looking in his face). Farewell! I'm sure you mean not what you say! You promised me a dress, a pearl-white silk; And I should like a veil so very much; One, dearest father, that will, from my head, Fold round my person, and then sweep the ground. I shall not forget them, dearest. Farewell! IOLA. (Exit Grimes L. U. E.) Now, whether I shall laugh, or cry, I cannot say. (Sobbing.) What lovely flowers (unties them)! emblem of beauty, Type of my heart's love, lie here. 66 (Takes a moss-rose.) (Places a rose in her bosom.) Forget-me-not!"-Now I can weep. Forget THEE! Ah! (Kisses the Forget-me-not.) A little note! Poor youthAh, little do you dream What's this (finds note)? "Ah, gentle flowers, sweet children of the light, Whose voice is incense, use thy magic sway! Oh, hush, my conscious heart! What's here? "I love thee as my life! My life is all for thee! Thee, whose bright eyes do light Break, break,-my throbbing heart, Or take it unto thine! For what is life, if fate should part Thee from a love like mine?" (Iola's voice becomes tremulous as she reads the last four lines, and finally is broken with sobs; then enter Margaret R. H. Iola puts the paper in her bosom.) MARGARET. How deep, young madam, is thy sorrow? D IOLA. Too deep for thee to fathom. MARGARET. At the bottom is a lover, and thy line is on it! IOLA. I like him, Margaret, but do not love him. MARGARET. Sir William is a courtly gentleman. IOLA. He learnt his manners on no man's land. MARGARET. True: they came by nature. IOLA. And I should think his voice also. 'Tis very like MARGARET. Tush, girl! what is 't you say? Not have him? Tush! Why, Master Grimes declared but now to me, Sir William Stanton will come every day, And do the best to win thee to his love. IOLA. And what say you, good nurse? MARGARET. Why, this: you know not what you like; (Mournfully.) And, therefore, as such liking you've to learn, IOLA. He shall not be my master! One knocks (knocking L. F.) MARGARET (goes to the door). Go back!-you can't come in. Will it please you buy, ladies? (Shuts the door.) LESTER BURTON (as the gipsy-goes to the window). MARGARET. It does not please us, mistress. Hence, away! Nurse, I am no child; she shall come in! That is, dear nurse (Iola runs to the door, opens it, and enter gipsy.) Oh, pretty gipsy, come in,-come in! What Sell you? (Enter Lester Burton, dressed as a gipsy). LESTER BURTON (as Adele, the gipsy). Ribbons, the colour of your eyes, though not so bright; Brooches, rings, and fans. I pray you, buy! IOLA (taking flowers, and holding them to Margaret's cap). Margaret, wilt have some flowers to deck your hair? These scarlet poppies ;-dear, how well they look! You saucy child! MARGARET. ADELE (has been regarding Iola with fixed attention). If you are not in merry mood to buy, I'll sing. Oh, I can sing a song of love! Of gallant knights, who, over flood and field, (To Iola.) Braved the wild tempest; and, in battle front, IOLA. Sing,-oh, sing! I love your voice! |