し FIRST LOVE. ACT I. SCENE I.-Coast of Lincolnshire that overlooks the Wash. TIME, EVENING. Enter LESTER BURTON and PERCY MANLEY. PERCY. LESTER, thou art so melancholy, I do believe thy heart is sick to death, and thou art musing remedies for its recovery. I never now behold thy once right merry face but what I fancy thou hast enlisted thyself with that chosen band of disappointed poets whose flowery writings never produce fruit! Percy! LESTER. Thy heart is far too light for heavy grief (When sunny skies have hushed the storms to sleep); Than thou art formed to bear the grief I feel. B PERCY. Oh, lovesick youth!-Oh, martyr to that love! An' I do not drive thee to thy wits' end (if any end there be to that which lacks beginning) for comparing me to a gossamer thread, I am no true friend! LESTER. Yesterday, you were dull as any lead; PERCY. By my faith, some blue-eyed beauty in this little spot has made strange havoc with thy heart! LESTER. Oh, that my heart were but as light as thine! Ah, ah! art there?-To a miser-a very miser-a usurer-a miserable man! A man who is afraid to venture from his door lest that the dust compel him to use soap and water! As strange a being as the world e'er saw! His very visage would turn new milk sour. LESTER. Does any dwell with him? PERCY. A poor, withered autumnal leaf, in the shape of an old woman. She is his bedmaker, clothesmaker, and washerwoman, although she has never been known to exercise her skill in the latter department under his roof! He has a house in Town, where thoughtless youths obtain supplies of gold: of late, his business has been managed by another screw; some cousin, I presume; for seldom does this man-this Grimes-this Master Grimes-leave e'en his door! LESTER. Has he committed any crime? PERCY. Committed crime !-he's ruined the noblest blood of England! They say he's bitten even Charles himself! His life is one dark mystery. There he lives in that black hole, close as a scorpion, and as venomous ! In the rear, a vast garden, surrounded by tremendous walls, defies the curious eye; and there, by night, he ruminates o'er plans, which ripen in the darkness of his heart by day! LESTER. But, Percy, art thou sure none other dwell Within those walls? Has he no child-no niece No fair girl-to cheer his lonely hours? 'Tis strange that I, a visiter to thee Of five days old, should seem to know far more PERCY. Ah! then thou art run mad; more mad than seas LESTER. Mock on-mock on! Last eve, 'twas on this spot, As I was gazing on the orb of day, Which in a world of living glory sank, 'Midst purple clouds, that shadowed the far west, PERCY. If thou hast wrecked thy heart upon a sound LESTER. Would that were all! Too soon a vision rose, As sure as yonder stream of living gold Pours its bright radiance on the trembling sea, Who breathed that music! PERCY. Was she a mortal, or a thing of air? LESTER. She was all light! and, oh, her glorious face PERCY. If this be true, as true it needs must be, (Mockingly. Or else some witchcraft has been played on thee, Stern fate, like to an Alpine barrier, Or, if you pass, your life may answer it. LESTER. 'T were nobler, then, to die in the attempt, Anon, she lifted up Her starry eyes, which too soon lit on me! PERCY (crossing, and speaking very slowly). LESTER. What spirit over thee has spread its wings? |