hermione.
But if those shafts are pointless and unfledg'd,
A hundred more would boot not!
Of what avail, though twice ten thousand fell
Unspeeding at my feet!
duke.
Thy fickle fancy,
Yet unfetter'd, will not always thus,
Gay as the light breeze, rove where'er she list,
Nor heeding ought she passes. She will droop,
And, sighing, linger o'er some cherish'd form,
Enamour'd while she worships.
hermione.
Mine roves not!
One form I cherish! None I wot beside
Comes forth at fancy's call. 'Tis not mine own!
duke.
Thou speakest riddles.
hermione.
And must ever thus.
Whate'er on this dark theme I could reveal
Were mystery still, trackless, inscrutable.
The subtle web in which my fate is bound
Time serves not to unravel: all beside
Basks in the broad moonlight. All hopes, desires,
Each changing hue, as cloud or sunshine sweeps
Their varied surface, pass without concealment
Before the eye of watchful day.—
beatrice.
And every maid hath some fond secret,
Some stored love, that she unwilling keeps
Until claim'd thence for its blest owner. Why
That face of solemn mystery brought forth,
As if thine own were some peculiar fate
None ever knew?
hermione.
Our light burden galls
More than the heaviest load our neighbours bear.
But we return. The day unwitting slides
Adown the cope of yon bright heaven. Few hours
Yet come till eve, and Laura looks impatient.
And wherefore thus, bright cousin?—no sly meeting,
No time-drawn assignation? Well I know
The disrespect thou bearest them, or now
My thoughts would judge thee!
duke.
Guard well your giddy charge,
Most vigilant dame, most excellent duenna,
Lest some gay treacherous gallant should beguile
Her tender years. Farewell.
laura.
I thank your duteous care. Farewell.
[Exeunt Hermione and Laura, followed by the Duchess.
duke.
A strange wrought mixture thou
Of our mortality; mingled, perchance,
By nature in some freakish mood, when tired
Of that same endless reproduction, man,—
Still to his fellow mortal answering,
As, in a mirror, face to face.