Since twelve months, to the true heir's prejudice,
By" ... Colombe, Juliers' mistress, so she thinks,
And Ravestein's mere lady, as we find!
Who wants the place and paper? Guibert's right.
I hope to climb a little in the world,—
I'd push my fortunes,—but, no more than he,
Could tell her on this happy day of days,
That, save the nosegay in her hand, perhaps,
There 's nothing left to call her own. Sir Clugnet,
You famish for promotion; what say you?