6001-6500

.gitattributes

@@ -61,3 +61,5 @@ PG3512_text.txt filter=lfs diff=lfs merge=lfs -text
 PG4500_text.txt filter=lfs diff=lfs merge=lfs -text
 PG4656_text.txt filter=lfs diff=lfs merge=lfs -text
 PG5600_text.txt filter=lfs diff=lfs merge=lfs -text
+PG6049_text.txt filter=lfs diff=lfs merge=lfs -text
+PG6300_text.txt filter=lfs diff=lfs merge=lfs -text

PG6024_text.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,1157 @@
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1908 Chatto and Windus edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+
+
+
+
+                                   THE
+                              DUKE OF GANDIA
+
+
+                                    BY
+                        ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                  LONDON
+                             CHATTO & WINDUS
+                                   1908
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                 Copyright, 1908, by Harper and Brothers
+                        _Dramatic rights reserved_
+
+
+
+
+
+                           PERSONS REPRESENTED.
+
+
+POPE ALEXANDER VI.
+
+FRANCESCO BORGIA, Duke of Gandia } his sons
+
+CÆSAR BORGIA, Cardinal of Valencia }
+
+DON MICHELE COREGLIA, called MICHELOTTO, agent for Cæsar Borgia.
+
+GIORGIO SCHIAVONE, a Tiber waterman.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+TWO ASSASSINS.
+
+AN OFFICER of the Papal Household.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+VANNOZZA CATANEI, surnamed LA ROSA, concubine to the Pope.
+
+LUCREZIA BORGIA, daughter to Alexander and Vannozza.
+
+                              _SCENE_: ROME.
+
+                      _TIME_: JUNE 14–JULY 22, 1497.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE I
+
+
+                                _The Vatican_
+
+                       _Enter_ CÆSAR _and_ VANNOZZA
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   Now, mother, though thou love my brother more,
+   Am I not more thy son than he?
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+         Not more.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   Have I more Spaniard in me—less of thee?
+   Did our Most Holiest father thrill thy womb
+   With more Italian passion than brought forth
+   Me?
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+      Child, thine elder never was as thou—
+   Spake never thus.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         I doubt it not.  But I,
+   Mother, am not mine elder.  He desires
+   And he enjoys the life God gives him—God,
+   The Pope our father, and thy sacred self,
+   Mother beloved and hallowed.  I desire
+   More.
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+      Thou wast ever sleepless as the wind—
+   A child anhungered for thy time to be
+   Man.  See thy purple about thee.  Art thou not
+   Cardinal?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Ay; my father’s eminence
+   Set so the stamp on mine.  I will not die
+   Cardinal.
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+      Cæsar, wilt thou cleave my heart?
+   Have I not loved thee?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         Ay, fair mother—ay.
+   Thou hast loved my father likewise.  Dost thou love
+   Giulia—the sweet Farnese—called the Fair
+   In all the Roman streets that call thee Rose?
+   And that bright babe Giovanni, whom our sire,
+   Thy holy lord and hers, hath stamped at birth
+   As duke of Nepi?
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+         When thy sire begat
+   Thee, sinful though he ever was—fierce, fell,
+   Spaniard—I fear me, Jesus for his sins
+   Bade Satan pass into him.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            And fill thee full,
+   Sweet sinless mother.  Fear it not.  Thou hast
+   Children more loved of him and thee than me—
+   Our bright Francesco, born to smile and sway,
+   And her whose face makes pale the sun in heaven,
+   Whose eyes outlaugh the splendour of the sea,
+   Whose hair has all noon’s wonders in its weft,
+   Whose mouth is God’s and Italy’s one rose,
+   Lucrezia.
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+      Dost thou love them then?  My child,
+   How should not I then love thee?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            God alone
+   Knows.  Was not God—the God of love, who bade
+   His son be man because he hated man,
+   And saw him scourged and hanging, and at last
+   Forgave the sin wherewith he had stamped us, seeing
+   So fair a full atonement—was not God
+   Bridesman when Christ’s crowned vicar took to bride
+   My mother?
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+         Speak not thou to me of God.
+   I have sinned, I have sinned—I would I had died a nun,
+   Cloistered!
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      There too my sire had found thee.  Priests
+   Make way where warriors dare not—save when war
+   Sets wide the floodgates of the weirs of hell.
+   And what hast thou to do with sin?  Hath he
+   Whose sin was thine not given thee there and then
+   God’s actual absolution?  Mary lived
+   God’s virgin, and God’s mother: mine art thou,
+   Who am Christlike even as thou art virginal.
+   And if thou love me or love me not God knows,
+   And God, who made me and my sire and thee,
+   May take the charge upon him.  I am I.
+   Somewhat I think to do before my day
+   Pass from me.  Did I love thee not at all,
+   I would not bid thee know it.
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+            Alas, my son!
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   Alas, my mother, sounds no sense for men—
+   Rings but reverberate folly, whence resounds
+   Returning laughter.  Weep or smile on me,
+   Thy sunshine or thy rainbow softens not
+   The mortal earth wherein thou hast clad me.  Nay,
+   But rather would I see thee smile than weep,
+   Mother.  Thou art lovelier, smiling.
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+            What is this
+   Thou hast at heart to do?  God’s judgment hangs
+   Above us.  I that girdled thee in me
+   As Mary girdled Jesus yet unborn
+   —Thou dost believe it?  A creedless heretic
+   Thou art not?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         I?  God’s vicar’s child?
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+            Be God
+   Praised!  I, then, I, thy mother, bid thee, pray,
+   Pray thee but say what hungers in thy heart,
+   And whither thou wouldst hurl the strenuous life
+   That works within thee.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         Whither?  Am not I
+   Hinge of the gate that opens heaven—that bids
+   God open when my sire thrusts in the key—
+   Cardinal?  Canst thou dream I had rather be
+   Duke?
+
+                            _Enter_ FRANCESCO
+
+                                FRANCESCO
+
+      Wilt thou take mine office, Cæsar mine?
+   I heard thy laugh deride it.  Mother, whence
+   Comes that sweet gift of grace from dawn to dawn
+   That daily shows thee sweeter?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            Knowest thou none
+   Lovelier?
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+      My Cæsar finds me not so fair.
+   Thou art over fond, Francesco.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            Nay, no whit.
+   Our heavenly father on earth adores no less
+   Our mother than our sister: and I hold
+   His heart and eye, his spirit and his sense,
+   Infallible.
+
+                              Enter the POPE
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         Jest not with God.  I heard
+   A holy word, a hallowing epithet,
+   Cardinal Cæsar, trip across thy tongue
+   Lightly.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Most holiest father, I desire
+   Paternal absolution—when thy laugh
+   Has waned from lip and eyelid.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Take it now,
+   And Christ preserve thee, Cæsar, as thou art,
+   To serve him as I serve him.  Rose of mine,
+   My rose of roses, whence has fallen this dew
+   That dims the sweetest eyes love ever lit
+   With light that mocks the morning?
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+            Nay, my lord,
+   I know not—nay, I knew not if I wept.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   Our sons and Christ’s and Peter’s whom we praise,
+   Are they—are these—fallen out?
+
+                                FRANCESCO
+
+            Not I with him,
+   Nor he, I think, with me.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         Forbid it, God!
+   The God that set thee where thou art, and there
+   Sustains thee, bids the love he kindles bind
+   Brother to brother.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         God or no God, man
+   Must live and let man live—while one man’s life
+   Galls not another’s.  Fools and fiends are men
+   Who play the fiend that is not.  Why shouldst thou,
+   Girt with the girdle of the church, and given
+   Power to preside on spirit and flesh—or thou,
+   Clothed with the glad world’s glory—priest or prince,
+   Turn on thy brother an evil eye, or deem
+   Your father God hath dealt his doom amiss
+   Toward either or toward any?  Hath not Rome,
+   Hath not the Lord Christ’s kingdom, where his will
+   Is done on earth, enough of all that man
+   Thirsts, hungers, lusts for—pleasure, pride, and power—
+   To sate you and to share between you?  Whence
+   Should she, the godless heathen’s goddess once,
+   Discord, heave up her hissing head again
+   Between love’s Christian children—love’s?  Hath God
+   Cut short the thrill that glorifies the flesh,
+   Chilled the sharp rapturous pang that burns the blood,
+   Because an hundred even as twain at once
+   Partake it?  Boys, my boys, be wise, and rest,
+   Whatever fire take hold upon your flesh,
+   Whatever dream set all your life on fire,
+   Friends.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Friends?  Our father on earth, thy will be done.
+
+                                FRANCESCO
+
+   Christ’s body, Cæsar! dost thou mock?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            Not I.
+   Hast thou fallen out with me, then, that thy tongue
+   Disclaims its lingering utterance?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         Now, by nought,
+   As nought abides to swear by, folly seen
+   So plain and heard so loud might well nigh make
+   Wise men believe in even the devil and God.
+   What ails you?  Whence comes lightning in your eyes,
+   With hissing hints of thunder on your lips?
+   Fools! and the fools I thought to make for men
+   Gods.  Is it love or hate divides you—turns
+   Tooth, fang, or claw, when time provides them prey,
+   To nip, rip, rend each other?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            Hate or love,
+   Francesco?
+
+                                FRANCESCO
+
+         Why, I hate thee not—thou knowest
+   I hate thee not, my Cæsar.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            I believe
+   Thou dost not hate or love or envy me;
+   Even as I know, and knowing believe, we all—
+   Our father, thou and I—triune in heart—
+   Hold loveliest of all living things to love
+   This.
+
+                             _Enter_ LUCREZIA
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+   Mother!  What do tears and thou for once
+   Together?  Rain in sunshine?
+
+                                 VANNOZZA
+
+            Ask thy sire,
+   Am I not now the moon?  Saint Anna bore
+   Saint Mary Virgin—did not God prefer
+   The child, and thrust behind with scarce a smile
+   The mother?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         Thrust not out thy thorns at heaven,
+   Rose.
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+      But what ailed her?  And she will not say.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   Sister, I sinned—sin must be mine.  A word
+   Fell out askance between us, and she wept
+   Because our father chid us.
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+            How should strife
+   Find here a tongue to hiss with?  Are not we,
+   Brothers and sire and sister, sealed of God
+   Lovers—made one in love?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Deride not God,
+   Lucrezia.
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+      Father, dost thou fear him, then?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   I say not and I know not if I fear.
+
+                                FRANCESCO
+
+   Thou canst not.  Father, were he terrible,
+   How long wouldst thou live—thou, his mask on earth?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   Boy, art thou all a child?  What knew they more,
+   The men that loved and feared and died for God,
+   Than I and thou who know him not?  We know
+   This life is ours, and sweet, if shame and fear
+   Make us not less than man: and less were they
+   Who crawled and writhed and cowered and called on God
+   To save them from him.  Here I stand as he,
+   God, or God’s very figure wrought in flesh,
+   More godlike than was Jesus.  Dare I fear
+   Whipping and hanging?  Thou, my cardinal,
+   Canst think not to be scourged and crucified—
+   Ha?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Nay: there lurks no God in me.  And thou,
+   Father, dost thou fear?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         I?  Nought less than God.
+   But if we take him lightly on our lips
+   Too light his name will sound in all men’s ears
+   Till earth and air, when man says God, respond
+   Laughter.  Forbear him.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         Wisdom lives in thee,
+   And cries not out along the streets as when
+   None of God’s folk that heard regarded her,
+   As all that hear thy word regard—or die,
+   Being not outside God’s eyeshot.  Dost thou sleep
+   Here in his special keeping—here—to-night,
+   Brother?
+
+                                FRANCESCO
+
+      What bids thee care to know?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            They say
+   These holy streets of heaven’s most holiest choice
+   Lie dangerous now in darkness if a man
+   Walk not on holiest errands.  Thou, they say,
+   Wert scarce a Christlike sacrifice if slain.
+   Too many dead flow down the Tiber’s flow
+   Nightly.  They say it.
+
+                                FRANCESCO
+
+            I never called thee yet
+   Fool.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Ah, my lord and brother, didst thou now,
+   Were this not thankless?  God—our father’s God—
+   Guide thee!
+
+                                                        [_Exit_ FRANCESCO.
+
+      He goes, and thanks me not.  Our sire,
+   What says the God that lives upon thy lips
+   And withers in thy silence?
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+         Vex him not,
+   Cæsar.  Thou seest he is weary.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Yea.  Come ye
+   With me.  Bethink thee, Cæsar.  Vex me not.
+
+              _Exeunt_ ALEXANDER, VANNOZZA, _and_ LUCREZIA.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   Thou wilt not bid me this, I think, again,
+   Father.
+
+                            _Enter_ MICHELOTTO
+
+      Thou art swift of speed at need.  I bade thee
+   Abide my bidding.
+
+                                MICHELOTTO
+
+         Till my lord were left
+   Alone.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Thou knewest it?
+
+                                MICHELOTTO
+
+         Where my lord may be
+   And what beseems his thrall to know of him
+   I were not worthy, knew I not, to know.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   I do not ask thee where my brother sleeps.
+   And where to-morrow sees him yet asleep—
+
+                                MICHELOTTO
+
+   Ask of the fishers’ nets on Tiber.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            Nay—
+   Not I but Rome shall ask it.  Pass in peace.
+   The benediction of my sire be thine.
+
+                                                                [_Exeunt_.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+
+                  _A narrow street opening on the Tiber_
+
+                    _Enter_ MICHELOTTO _and_ ASSASSINS
+
+                                MICHELOTTO
+
+   Ye know the lordlier harlot’s house—there?
+
+                              FIRST ASSASSIN
+
+            Ay,
+   Surely.
+
+                                MICHELOTTO
+
+      The first whose foot comes forth is he.
+
+                             SECOND ASSASSIN
+
+   How know we this?
+
+                                MICHELOTTO
+
+         I know it.  Ye need but slay.
+
+                                                                  [_Exit_.
+
+                            _Enter_ FRANCESCO
+
+                          FRANCESCO (_singing_)
+
+   Love and night are life and light;
+      Sleep and wine and song
+   Speed and slay the halting day
+      Ere it live too long.
+
+                              FIRST ASSASSIN
+
+   That shalt not thou.  Sing, whosoe’er thou be,
+   Thy next of songs to Satan.
+
+                                                         [_They stab him_.
+
+                                FRANCESCO
+
+         Dogs!  Ye dare?
+   God!  Pity me!  God!
+
+                                                                  [_Dies_.
+
+                             SECOND ASSASSIN
+
+         God receive his soul!
+   This was a Christian: many a man I have slain
+   Died with all hell between his lips.
+
+                              FIRST ASSASSIN
+
+            Be thine
+   Dumb.  Lift his feet as I the head.
+
+                             SECOND ASSASSIN
+
+            A boy!
+   And fair of face as angels
+
+                              FIRST ASSASSIN
+
+            If the nets
+   Snare not this fish betimes ere others feed,
+   None that shall heave it airward for the sun
+   To mock and mar shall say so.  Bring him down.
+   Tiber hath fed on choicer fare than we
+   May think to feed his throat with ere we die.
+
+                                                  [_Exeunt with the body_.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+
+                              _The Vatican_
+
+                          ALEXANDER and LUCREZIA
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   The day burns high.  Thou hast not seen them—thou?
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+   My brethren, sire?  Nay, not since yesternight.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   The night is newly dead.  Since yestereven?
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+   Nor then.  I saw them when we parted here
+   Last.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+      I believe thou liest not.  Girl, the day
+   Looks pale before thy glory.  Brow, cheek, eye,
+   Lips, throat, and bosom, thou dost overshine
+   All womanhood man ever worshipped.  Once
+   I held thy mother fairest born of all
+   That ever turned old Rome to heaven.  Thou hast read
+   Her golden Horace?
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+         Else were I cast out
+   From all their choir who serve the Muses.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Ay.
+   ‘Fair mother’s fairer daughter,’ dost thou deem
+   That praise was ever merited as by thee?
+   I cannot.
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+      I concern myself no whit
+   If so it were or were not.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Thou dost well.
+   Thou hast not seen, thou sayest, Francesco?
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+            Nay—
+   Give me some reliquary to swear it on—
+   Some rosary—crucifix or amulet,
+   Sorcerous or sacred.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         Never twins were born
+   More like than thou and he—nor lovelier: yet
+   No twins were ye.
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+         What ails thy Holiness?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   I am ill at ease: my heart is sick.  Last night
+   No revel here was held, and yet the day
+   Strikes heavier on me wearier, body and soul,
+   Than though we had rioted out with raging mirth
+   The lifelong length of darkness.
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+            Evil hours
+   Fret somewhiles all folk living; none sees why:
+   No child sleeps always all night long.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Wast thou
+   Wakeful?  No trouble clung about thee?  Nought
+   Made the air of night heavier with presage felt
+   As joy feels fear and withers?  I am not
+   Afraid: methinks I am very fear itself.
+
+                   _Enter an Officer of the household_
+
+                                 OFFICER
+
+   His holiness be gracious towards me.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Speak.
+   Thy face is death’s: let death upon thy lips
+   Live.
+
+                                 OFFICER
+
+      Sire, the humblest hireling knave in Rome—
+   A waterman that plies his craft all night—
+   Craves audience even of thee.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         A Roman?
+
+                                 OFFICER
+
+            Nay.
+   Some outlander—some Greek—they call the knave
+   George the Slavonian.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+      They?
+
+                                 OFFICER
+
+            The fisherfolk
+   On Tiber.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+      Bid him in: bid God himself
+   Come in with doom upon me.
+
+                                                          [_Exit Officer_.
+
+            Hear’st thou, child—
+   Daughter?
+
+                                 LUCREZIA
+
+      What horror hangs on thee?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Abide,
+   And thou shalt know as I know.
+
+                        _Enter_ GIORGIO SCHIAVONE
+
+            Speak.  I say,
+   Speak.  What thou art I know: and what I am
+   Thou knowest—and yet thou knowest not.
+
+                                 GIORGIO
+
+         Holiest sire,
+   Last night I kept my boat on Tiber—Sire,
+   The thing I saw was nothing of my deed—
+   It shook me out of sleep to see it—Lord,
+   Have mercy: look not so upon me.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Dog,
+   Speak, while thy tongue is thine.
+
+                                 GIORGIO
+
+         Two men came down
+   And peered along the water-side: and two
+   Came after—men whose eyes raked all the night,
+   Searching the shore—I lay beneath my boat—
+   Beside it on the darkling side—and saw.
+   Then came a horseman—Sire, his horse was white—
+   The moonshine made his mane like dull white fire—
+   And on his crupper heavily hung a corpse,
+   Arms held from swaying on this side, legs on that,
+   I know not which on either—but the men
+   Held fast that held: and hard on Tiber side
+   They swung the crupper towards the water—sharp
+   And swift as man may steer a horse—and caught
+   And slung their dead into the stream: and he
+   Drifted, and caught the moon across his face
+   That shone like life against it: and the chief
+   Till then sat silent as the moon at watch,
+   And then bade hurl stones on the drifting dead
+   And sink him out of sight; and seeing this done,
+   Rode thence, and they strode after.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Man, and thou—
+   Thou?
+
+                                 GIORGIO
+
+      Sire, I set my heart again to sleep:
+   I turned and slept under my boatside.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Man—
+   Dog—devil, if this be truth, and if my fear
+   Lie not—how hadst thou heart to hold thy peace?
+   How comes it that the warders of the shore
+   Knew not of thee, while yet the crime was hot,
+   What crime had made night hell?
+
+                                 GIORGIO
+
+         A thousand times
+   I have seen such sights, but never till this hour
+   Seen him who cared to hear of them.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Till now,
+   Never.  He looks in God’s mute face and mine,
+   And says it.  God be good to me!  But God
+   Will not—or is not.  Where is then thy dead,
+   Devil, called of God from hell to smite—to scourge—
+   Me?
+
+                                 GIORGIO
+
+      Sire, at hand I left him.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Stir not.  Bid
+   Thy fellows bring my dead before me.
+
+                                                          [_Exit Officer_.
+
+               Nay,
+   But mine it is not yet—it may not be
+   Mine—while it may not be, it is not.  Child,
+   It shall not be thy brother.  Pray no prayer.
+   Prayer never yet brought profit.  Be not pale.
+   Fear strikes more deep into the fearful heart
+   The wound it heals not.
+
+                Enter Officers with the body of FRANCESCO
+
+         What is he they bring?
+   O God!  Thou livest!  And my child is dead!
+
+                                                                 [_Falls_.
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+
+                              _The Vatican_
+
+                          ALEXANDER _and_ CÆSAR
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   Thou hast done this deed.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Thou hast said it.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         Dost thou think
+   To live, and look upon me?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            Some while yet.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   I would there were a God—that he might hear.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   ’Tis pity there should be—for thy sake—none.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   Wilt thou slay me?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Why?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Am not I thy sire?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   And Christendom’s to boot.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            I pray thee, man,
+   Slay me.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         And then myself?  Thou art crazed, but I
+   Sane.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+      Art thou very flesh and blood?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+               They say,
+   Thine.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+      If the heaven stand still and smite thee not,
+   There is no God indeed.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+            Nor thou nor I
+   Know.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+      I could pray to God that God might be,
+   Were I but mad.  Thou sayest I am mad: thou liest:
+   I do not pray.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         Most holiest father, no.
+   Thy brain is not so sick yet.  Thou and God
+   Friends?  Man, how long would God have let thee live—
+   Thee?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+      Long enough he hath kept me, to behold
+   His face as fire—if his it be—and earth
+   As hell—and thee, begotten of my loins,
+   Satan.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         The firstfruits of thy fatherhood
+   Were something less than Satan.  Man of God,
+   Vaunt not thyself.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            I would I had died in the womb.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   Thou shalt do better, dying in Peter’s chair:
+   Thou shalt die famous.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+         Ay: no screen from that,
+   No shelter, no forgetfulness on earth.
+   We shall be famed for ever.  Hell and night,
+   Cover me!
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Hast thou heard that prayers are heard?
+   Or hast thou known earth, for a man’s cry’s sake,
+   Cleave, and devour him?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            I have done this thing.
+   Thou hast not done it: thy deed is none of thine:
+   Upon my hand, upon my head, the blood
+   Rests.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Wilt thou sleep the worse for this next year?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   I will not live a seven days’ space beyond
+   This.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      Thou hast lived thy seven days’ space in hell,
+   Father: they say thou hast fasted even from sleep.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   Ay.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+      What they say and what thou sayest I hold
+   False.  Though thou hast wept as woman, howled as wolf,
+   Above our dead, thou art hale and whole.  And now
+   Behoves thee rise again as Christ our God,
+   Vicarious Christ, and cast as flesh away
+   This grief from off thy godhead.  I and thou,
+   One, will set hand as never God hath set
+   To the empire and the steerage of the world.
+   Do thou forget but him who is dead, and was
+   Nought, and bethink thee what a world to wield
+   The eternal God hath given into thine hands
+   Which daily mould him out of bread, and give
+   His kneaded flesh to feed on.  Thou and I
+   Will make this rent and ruinous Italy
+   One.  Ours it shall be, body and soul, and great
+   Above all power and glory given of God
+   To them that died to set thee where thou art—
+   Throned on the dust of Cæsar and of Christ,
+   Imperial.  Earth shall quail again, and rise
+   Again the higher because she trembled.  Rome
+   So bade it be: it was, and shall be.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+               Son,
+   Art thou my son?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         Whom should thy radiant Rose
+   Have found so fit to ingraff with, and bring forth
+   So strong a scion as I am?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            By my faith—
+   Wherein, I know not—by my soul, if that
+   Be—I believe it.  God forgot his doom
+   When he thou hast slain drew breath before thee
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+               God
+   Must needs forget—if God remember.  Now
+   This thing thou hast loved, and I that swept him hence
+   Held never fit for hate of mine, is dead,
+   Wilt thou be one with me—one God?  No less,
+   Lord Christ of Rome, thou wilt be.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            Ay?  The Dove?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   What dove, though lovelier than the swan that lured
+   Leda to love of God on earth, might match
+   Lucrezia?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+      None.  Thou art subtle of soul and strong.
+   I would thou hadst spared him—couldst have spared him.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         Sire,
+   I would so too.  Our sire, his sire and mine,
+   I slew not him for lust of slaying, or hate,
+   Or aught less like thy wiser spirit and mine.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+   Not for the dove’s sake?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+         Not for hate or love.
+   Death was the lot God bade him draw, if God
+   Be more than what we make him.
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+               Bread and wine
+   Could hardly turn so bitter.  Canst thou sleep?
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+   Dost thou not?  Flesh must sleep to live.  Am I
+   No son of thine?
+
+                                ALEXANDER
+
+            I would I saw thine end,
+   And mine: and yet I would not.
+
+                                  CÆSAR
+
+               Sire, good night.
+
+                                                                 [_Exeunt_
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                PRINTED BY
+               SPOTTISWOODE AND CO. LTD., NEW-STREET SQUARE
+                                  LONDON
+
+
+

PG6025_text.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,2306 @@
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1912 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+                          [Picture: Book cover]
+
+
+
+
+
+                              THE ENGLISHMAN
+                             AND OTHER POEMS
+
+
+                                    BY
+
+                           ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
+
+                      [Picture: Decorative graphic]
+
+                          GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.
+                12 AND 13 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN
+                                  LONDON
+                                   1912
+
+                         [_All rights reserved_]
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+_THE QUEEN’S LAST RIDE_
+
+
+(_Written on the day of Queen Victoria’s funeral_)
+
+   _The Queen is taking a drive to-day_,
+   _They have hung with purple the carriage-way_,
+   _They have dressed with purple the royal track_
+   _Where the Queen goes forth and never comes back_.
+
+   _Let no man labour as she goes by_
+   _On her last appearance to mortal eye_;
+   _With heads uncovered let all men wait_
+   _For the Queen to pass in her regal state_.
+   _Army and Navy shall lead the way_
+   _For that wonderful coach of the Queen’s to-day_.
+
+   _Kings and Princes and Lords of the land_
+   _Shall ride behind her_, _a humble band_;
+   _And over the city and over the world_
+   _Shall the Flags of all Nations be half-mast-furled_,
+   _For the silent lady of royal birth_
+   _Who is riding away from the Courts of earth_,
+   _Riding away from the world’s unrest_
+   _To a mystical goal_, _on a secret quest_.
+
+   _Though in royal splendour she drives through town_,
+   _Her robes are simple_, _she wears no crown_:
+   _And yet she wears one_, _for widowed no more_,
+   _She is crowned with the love that has gone before_,
+   _And crowned with the love she has left behind_
+   _In the hidden depths of each mourner’s mind_.
+
+   _Bow low your heads—lift your hearts on high—_
+   _The Queen in silence is driving by_!
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                PAGE
+The Englishman                                     1
+Canada                                             3
+The Call                                           5
+Coronation Poem and Prayer                         7
+Two Voices                                        11
+A Ballade of the Unborn Dead                      14
+The Truth Teller                                  17
+Just You                                          19
+Reflection                                        20
+Songs of Love and the Sea                         21
+Acquaintance                                      25
+In India’s Dreamy Land                            26
+Rangoon                                           27
+Thoughts on leaving Japan                         28
+On seeing the Diabutsu—at Kamakura, Japan         30
+The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart               31
+East and West                                     33
+The Squanderer                                    34
+Compensations                                     35
+Song of the Rail                                  38
+Always at Sea                                     40
+The Suitors                                       42
+The Jealous Gods                                  44
+God Rules Alway                                   45
+The Cure                                          49
+The Forecast                                      52
+Little Girls                                      55
+Science                                           57
+The Earth                                         60
+The Muse and the Poet                             63
+The Spinster                                      67
+Brotherhood                                       71
+The Tavern of Last Times                          73
+The Two Ages                                      74
+If I Were                                         77
+Warned                                            78
+Forward                                           80
+In England                                        81
+Karma                                             83
+The Gossips                                       85
+Together                                          89
+Petition                                          91
+A Waft of Perfume                                 92
+The Plough                                        94
+Go Plant a Tree                                   96
+Pain’s Purpose                                    98
+Memory’s Mansion                                  99
+Old Rhythm and Rhyme                             101
+All in a Coach and Four                          103
+Songs of a Country Home                          105
+Worthy the name of “Sir Knight”                  108
+
+
+
+
+THE ENGLISHMAN
+
+
+   Born in the flesh, and bred in the bone,
+      Some of us harbour still
+   A New World pride: and we flaunt or hide
+      The Spirit of Bunker Hill.
+   We claim our place, as a separate race,
+      Or a self-created clan;
+   Till there comes a day when we like to say,
+      ‘We are kin of the Englishman.’
+
+   For under the front that seems so cold,
+      And the voice that is wont to storm,
+   We are certain to find, a big, broad mind
+      And a heart that is soft and warm.
+   And he carries his woes in a lordly way,
+      As only the great souls can:
+   And it makes us glad when in truth we say,
+      We are kin of the Englishman.’
+
+   He slams his door in the face of the world,
+      If he thinks the world too bold.
+   He will even curse; but he opens his purse
+      To the poor, and the sick, and the old.
+   He is slow in giving to woman the vote,
+      And slow to put up her fan;
+   But he gives her room in the hour of doom,
+      And dies—like an Englishman.
+
+
+
+
+CANADA
+
+
+      _England_, _father and mother in one_,
+      _Look on your stalwart son_.
+   Sturdy and strong, with the valour of youth,
+   Where is another so lusty?
+   Coated and mailed, with the armour of truth,
+   Where is another so trusty?
+   Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
+   He is yours alone.
+
+      _England_, _father and mother in one_,
+      _See the wealth of your son_.
+   Forests primeval, and virginal sod,
+   Wheat-fields golden and splendid:
+   Riches of nature and opulent God
+   For the use of his children intended.
+   A courage that dares, and a hope that endures,
+   And a soul all yours.
+
+      _England_, _father and mother in one_,
+      _Hear the cry of your son_.
+   Little cares he for the glories of earth
+   Lying around and above him,
+   Yearning is he for the rights of his birth,
+   And the heart of his mother to love him.
+   Vast are your gifts to him, ample his store,
+   Now open your door.
+
+      _England_, _father and mother in one_,
+      _Heed the voice of your son_.
+   Proffer him place in your councils of state:
+   Let him sit near, and attend you.
+   Ponder his words in the hour of debate,
+   Strong is his arm to defend you.
+   Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone,
+   Give him his own.
+
+
+
+
+THE CALL
+
+
+   _In the banquet hall of Progress_
+   _God has bidden to a feast_
+   _All the women in the East_.
+
+   Some have said ‘We are not ready,—
+      We must wait another day.’
+   Some, with voices clear and steady,
+      ‘Lord, we hear, and we obey.’
+
+   Others, timid and uncertain,
+      Step forth trembling in the light,
+   Many hide behind the curtain
+      With their faces hid from sight.
+
+   _In the banquet hall of Progress_
+   _All must gather soon or late_,
+   _And the patient Host will wait_.
+
+   If to-day, or if to-morrow,
+      If in gladness, or in woe,
+   If with pleasure, or with sorrow,
+      All must answer, all must go.
+   They must go with unveiled faces,
+      Clothed in virtue and in pride.
+   For the Host has set their places,
+      And He will not he denied.
+
+
+
+CORONATION POEM AND PRAYER
+
+
+   The world has crowned a thousand kings:
+      But destiny has kept
+   Her weightiest hour of kingly power
+      To offer England’s son.
+   The rising bell of Progress rings;
+      And Truths which long have slept,
+   Like prophets strange, predicting change,
+      Before Time’s chariot run.
+
+   The greatest Empire of the Earth.
+      Old England proudly stands.
+   Like arteries her Colonies
+      Reach out from sea to sea.
+   She clasps all races in her girth;
+      Her gaze the world commands;
+   And far and wide where strong ships ride,
+      The British Flag floats free.
+
+   Oh, never since the stars began
+      Their round of Cosmic law,
+   And souls evolved in ways unsolved,
+      And kingdoms reached their prime
+   Has Destiny held out to Man
+      A gift so full of awe,
+   As England’s crown which she hands down
+      In this stupendous time.
+
+   This is a crucial hour, when Fate
+      Tries Monarchs as by fire.
+   All rulers must be more than just—
+      Men starve on bread alone.
+   Old England’s sense of _right_ is great:
+      But now let her aspire
+   To feel more love, and build thereof
+      An everlasting Throne.
+
+   The dreaming East, awake at last,
+      Is asking ‘when’ and ‘why’;
+   Wait not too long nor answer wrong,
+      Nor in too stern a voice.
+   Let England profit by her past,
+      And with her wise reply
+   Rouse hearts, within her foster kin
+      To hope, and to rejoice.
+
+   True wealth dwells not in things we own,
+      But in our _use_ of things.
+   Who would command a conquered land
+      Must conquer first its heart.
+   Such might as Man has never known,
+      And power undreamed by kings,
+   And boundless strength would come at length
+      To one who used that art.
+
+   For now has dawned the People’s day:
+      A day of great unrest.
+   Nor king nor creed can still man’s need
+      Of time and space to grow.
+   All lands must shape a wider way,
+      For this eternal quest;
+   And Leisure yield a larger field
+      Where work-worn feet may go.
+
+   The Universe is all a-thrill
+      With changes imminent.
+   The World in faith, with bated breath,
+      Holds free the Leader’s place.
+   And wise is he whose heart and will
+      At one with Time’s intent,
+   Shall open wide doors long denied
+      To _mothers_ of the race.
+
+   On this round globe, oh, when and where
+      Were fitter time and scene
+   For Woman’s soul to reach its goal
+      Than _now_ in England’s realm.
+   Was not the crown its King will wear
+      Made glorious by its Queen?
+   And who steered straight its ship of State?
+      _Victoria at the Helm_!
+
+   Kings have been kings by accident,
+      By favour and by force,
+   But right of birth and moral worth,
+      And Empires rich and broad
+   For England’s King to-day are blent
+      Like rivers on one course.
+   But, ah! the light falls searching white
+      Down from the Throne of God.
+
+   Lord of the Earth and heavenly-spheres,
+      Creator of all things,
+   Thou who hast wrought great worlds from naught,
+      Give strength to England’s son.
+   Give courage to dispel those fears
+      That come to even kings,
+   And for his creed give Love’s full mead;
+      Amen.  Thy Will be done.
+
+
+
+
+TWO VOICES
+
+
+                                  VIRTUE
+
+   O wanton one, O wicked one, how was it that you came,
+   Down from the paths of purity, to walk the streets of shame?
+   And wherefore was that precious wealth, God gave to you in trust,
+   Flung broadcast for the feet of men to trample in the dust?
+
+                                   VICE
+
+   O prudent one, O spotless one, now listen well to me.
+   The ways that led to where I tread these paths of sin, were three:
+   And God, and good folks, all combined to make them fair to see.
+
+                                  VIRTUE
+
+   O wicked one, blasphemous one, now how could that thing be?
+
+                                   VICE
+
+   The first was Nature’s lovely road, whereon my life was hurled.
+   I felt the stirring in my blood, which permeates the world.
+   I thrilled like willows in the spring, when sap begins to flow,
+   It was young passion in my veins, but how was I to know?
+
+   The second was the silent road, where modest mothers dwell,
+   And hide from eager, curious minds, the truth they ought to tell.
+   That misnamed road called ‘Innocence’ should bear the sign ‘to Hell.’
+   With song and dance in ignorance I walked that road and fell.
+
+                                  VIRTUE
+
+   O fallen one, unhappy one, but why not rise and go
+   Back to the ways you left behind, and leave your sins below,
+   Nor linger in this sink of sin, since now you see, and know.
+
+                                   VICE
+
+   The third road was the fair high way, trod by the good and great.
+   I cried aloud to that vast crowd, and told my hapless fate.
+   They hurried all through door and wall and shut Convention’s gate.
+   I beat it with my bleeding hands: they must have heard me knock.
+   They must have heard wild sob and word, yet no one turned the lock.
+
+   Oh, it is very desolate, on Virtue’s path to stand,
+   And see the good folks flocking by, withholding look and hand.
+
+   And so with hungry heart and soul, and weary brain and feet,
+   I left that highway whence you came, and sought the sinful street.
+
+   O prudent one, O spotless one, when good folks speak of me,
+   Go, tell them of the roads I came; the road ways fair, and three.
+
+
+
+
+A BALLADE OF THE UNBORN DEAD
+
+
+   They walked the valley of the dead;
+      Lit by a weird half light;
+   No sound they made, no word they said;
+      And they were pale with fright.
+   Then suddenly from unseen places came
+   Loud laughter, that was like a whip of flame.
+
+   They looked, and saw, beyond, above,
+      A land where wronged souls wait;
+   (Those spirits called to earth by love,
+      And driven back by hate).
+   And each one stood in anguish dumb and wild,
+   As she beheld the phantom of her child.
+
+   Yea, saw the soul her wish had hurled
+      Out into night and death;
+   Before it reached the Mother world,
+      Or drew its natal breath.
+   And terrified, each hid her face and fled
+   Beyond the presence of her unborn dead.
+
+   And God’s Great Angel, who provides
+      Souls for our mortal land,
+   Laughed, with the laughter that derides,
+      At that fast fleeing band
+   Of self-made barren women of the earth.
+   (Hell has no curse that withers like such mirth.)
+
+   ‘O Angel, tell us who were they,
+      That down below us fared;
+   Those shapes with faces strained and grey,
+      And eyes that stared and stared;
+   Something there was about them, gave us fear;
+   Yet are we lonely, now they are not here.’
+
+   Thus spake the spectral children; thus
+      The Angel made reply:
+   ‘They have no part or share with us;
+      They were but passers-by.’
+   ‘But may we pray for them?’ the phantoms plead.
+   ‘Yea, for they need your prayers,’ the Angel said.
+
+   They went upon their lonely way;
+      (Far, far from Paradise);
+   Their path was lit with one wan ray
+      From ghostly children’s eyes;
+   The little children who were never born;
+   And as they passed, the Angel laughed in scorn.
+
+
+
+
+THE TRUTH TELLER
+
+
+   The Truth Teller lifts the curtain,
+      And shows us the people’s plight;
+   And everything seems uncertain,
+      And nothing at all looks right.
+   Yet out of the blackness groping,
+      My heart finds a world in bloom;
+   For it somehow is fashioned for hoping,
+      And it cannot live in the gloom.
+
+   He tells us from border to border,
+      That race is warring with race;
+   With riot and mad disorder,
+      The earth is a wretched place;
+   And yet ere the sun is setting
+      I am thinking of peace, not strife;
+   For my heart has a way of forgetting
+      All things save the joy of life.
+
+   I heard in my Youth’s beginning
+      That earth was a region of woe,
+   And trouble, and sorrow, and sinning:
+      The Truth Teller told me so.
+   I knew it was true, and tragic;
+      And I mourned over much that was wrong;
+   And then, by some curious magic,
+      The heart of me burst into song.
+
+   The years have been going, going,
+      A mixture of pleasure and pain;
+   But the Truth Teller’s books are showing
+      That evil is on the gain.
+   And I know that I ought to be grieving,
+      And I should be too sad to sing;
+   But somehow I keep on believing
+      That life is a glorious thing.
+
+
+
+
+JUST YOU
+
+
+   All the selfish joys of earth,
+      I am getting through.
+   That which used to lure and lead
+      Now I pass and give no heed;
+   Only one thing seems of worth—
+         Just you.
+
+   Not for me the lonely height,
+      And the larger view;
+   Lowlier ways seem fair and wide,
+      While we wander side by side.
+   One thing makes the whole world bright—
+         Just you.
+
+   Not for distant goals I run,
+      No great aim pursue;
+   Most of earth’s ambitions seem
+      Like the shadow of a dream.
+   All the world to me means one—
+         Just you.
+
+
+
+
+REFLECTION
+
+
+   Twice have I seen God’s full reflected grace.
+      Once when the wailing of a child at birth
+      Proclaimed another soul had come to earth,
+   That look shone on, and through the mother’s face.
+
+   And once when silence, absolute and vast,
+      Followed the final indrawn mortal breath,
+      Sudden upon the countenance of death
+   That supreme glory of God’s grace was cast.
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF LOVE AND THE SEA
+
+
+I
+
+
+   When first we met (the Sea and I),
+      Like one before a King,
+   I stood in awe; nor felt nor saw
+   The sun, the winds, the earth, the sky
+      Or any other thing.
+         God’s Universe, to me,
+            Was just the Sea.
+
+   When next we met, the lordly Main
+      Played but a courtier’s part;
+   Crowned Queen was I; and earth and sky,
+   And sun and sea were my domain,
+      Since love was in my heart.
+         Before, beyond, above,
+            Was only Love.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+   Love built me, on a little rock,
+      A little house of pine,
+         At first, the Sea
+         Beat angrily
+   About that house of mine;
+   (That dear, dear home of mine).
+
+   But when it turned to go away
+      Beyond the sandy track,
+         Down o’er its wall
+         The house would call,
+   Until the Sea came back;
+   (It always hurried back).
+
+   And now the two have grown so fond,
+      (Oh, breathe no word of this),
+         When clouds hang low,
+         And east winds blow,
+   They meet and kiss and kiss:
+   (At night, I hear them kiss).
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+   No man can understand the Sea, until
+   He knows all passions of the senses; all
+   The great emotions of the heart; and each
+      Exalted aspiration of the soul.
+   Then may he sit beside the sea and say:
+   ‘I, too, have flung myself against the rocks,
+   And kissed their flinty brows with no return;
+      And fallen spent upon unfeeling sands.
+   I, too, have gone forth yearning, to far shores,
+   Seeking that something which would bring content;
+      And finding only what I took away;
+   And I have looked up, through the veil of skies,
+   When all the world was still, and understood
+   That I am one with Nature and with God.’
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+   The Dawn was flying from the Night;
+      Swift as the wind she sped;
+   Her hair was like a fleece of light;
+      Her cheeks were warm and red.
+
+   All passion pale, the Night pursued;
+      She fled away, away;
+   And in her garments, rainbow hued,
+      She gained the peak of day.
+
+   And then, all shaken with alarms,
+      She leaped down from its crest;
+   Into the Sea’s uplifted arms,
+      And swooned upon his breast.
+
+
+
+
+ACQUAINTANCE
+
+
+   Not we who daily walk the City’s street;
+   Not those who have been cradled in its heart,
+   Best understand its architectural art,
+   Or realise its grandeur.  Oft we meet
+   Some stranger who has stayed his passing feet
+   And lingered with us for a single hour,
+   And learned more of cathedral, and of tower,
+   Than we, who deem our knowledge quite complete.
+
+   Not always those we hold most loved and dear,
+   Not always those who dwell with us, know best
+   Our greater selves.  Because they stand so near
+   They cannot see the lofty mountain crest,
+   The gleaming sun-kissed height, which fair and dear
+   Stands forth—revealed unto the some-time guest.
+
+
+
+
+IN INDIA’S DREAMY LAND
+
+
+   In India’s land one listens aghast
+   To the people who scream and bawl;
+   For each caste yells at a lower caste,
+   And the Britisher yells at them all.
+
+
+
+
+RANGOON
+
+
+   Just a changing sea of colour
+   Surging up and flowing down;
+   And pagodas shining golden, night and noon;
+   And a sun-burst-tinted throng
+   Of young priests that move along
+   Under sun-burst-hued umbrellas through the town.
+      That’s Rangoon.
+
+
+
+
+THOUGHTS ON LEAVING JAPAN
+
+
+   A changing medley of insistent sounds,
+   Like broken airs, played on a Samisen,
+   Pursues me, as the waves blot out the shore.
+   The trot of wooden heels; the warning cry
+   Of patient runners; laughter and strange words
+   Of children, children, children everywhere:
+   The clap of reverent hands, before some shrine;
+   And over all the haunting temple bells,
+   Waking, in silent chambers of the soul,
+   Dim memories of long-forgotten lives.
+
+   _But oh_! _the sorrow of the undertone_;
+   _The wail of hopeless weeping in the dawn_
+   _From lips that smiled through gilded bars at night_.
+
+   Brave little people, of large aims, you bow
+   Too often, and too low before the Past;
+   You sit too long in worship of the dead.
+   Yet have you risen, open eyed, to greet
+   The great material Present.  Now salute
+   The greater Future, blazing its bold trail
+   Through old traditions.  Leave your dead to sleep
+   In quiet peace with God.  Let your concern
+   Be with the living, and the yet unborn;
+   Bestow on them your thoughts, and waste no time
+   In costly honours to insensate dust.
+   Unlock the doors of usefulness, and lead
+   Your lovely daughters forth to larger fields,
+   Away from jungles of the ancient sin.
+
+   _For oh_! _the sorrow of that undertone_,
+   _The wail of hopeless weeping in the dawn_
+   _From lips that smiled through gilded bars at night_.
+
+
+
+
+ON SEEING THE DIABUTSU—AT KAMAKURA, JAPAN
+
+
+   Long have I searched, cathedral shrine, and hall,
+   To find a symbol, from the hand of art,
+   That gave the full expression (not a part)
+   Of that ecstatic peace which follows all
+   Life’s pain and passion.  Strange it should befall
+   This outer emblem of the inner heart
+   Was waiting far beyond the great world’s mart—
+   Immortal answer, to the mortal call.
+
+   Unknown the artist, vaguely known his creed:
+   But the bronze wonder of his work sufficed
+   To lift me to the heights his faith had trod.
+   For one rich moment, opulent indeed,
+   I walked with Krishna, Buddha, and the Christ,
+   And felt the full serenity of God.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE LADY OF THE BULLOCK CART
+
+
+   Now is the time when India is gay
+   With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs
+   Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part
+   In human pleasures.  Dressed in bright array,
+   They fling upon the bride their wreaths of songs—
+   The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
+
+   Here is the temple ready for the rite:
+   The large-eyed bullocks halt; and waiting arms
+   Lift down the bride.  All India’s curious art
+   Speaks in the gems with which she is bedight.
+   And in the robes which hide her sweet alarms—
+   The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
+
+   This is her day of days: her splendid hour
+   When joy is hers, though love is all unknown.
+   It has not dawned upon her childish heart.
+   But human triumph, in a temporal power,
+   Has crowned her queen upon a one-day throne—
+   The Little Lady of the Bullock Cart.
+
+   Ah, Little Lady!  What will be your fate?
+   So long, so long, the outward-reaching years:
+   So brief the joy of this elusive part;
+   So frail the shoulders for the loads that wait:
+   So bitter salt the virgin widow’s tears—
+   O Little Lady of the Bullock cart.
+
+
+
+
+EAST AND WEST
+
+
+   The Day has never understood the Gloaming or the Night;
+   Though sired by one Creative Power, and nursed at Nature’s breast;
+   The White Man ever fails to read the Dark Man’s heart aright;
+   Though from the self-same Source they came, upon the self-same quest;
+   So deep and wide, the Great Divide,
+   Between the East and West.
+
+   But like a shadow on a screen, mine eyes behold, above
+   The yawning gulf, a dim forecast, of structures strong and broad;
+   Where caste, and colour prejudice, by countless feet down trod,
+   With old traditions crushed by Time, pave smooth the bridge of Love;
+   And all the creed that men shall heed
+   Is consciousness of God.
+
+
+
+
+THE SQUANDERER
+
+
+   God gave him passions, splendid as the sun,
+   Meant for the lordliest purposes; a part
+   Of nature’s full and fertile mother heart,
+   From which new systems and new stars are spun.
+   And now, behold, behold, what he has done!
+      In Folly’s court and carnal Pleasures’ mart
+      He flung the wealth life gave him at the start.
+   (This, of all mortal sins, the deadliest one.)
+
+   At dawn he stood, potential, opulent,
+      With virile manhood, and emotions keen,
+         And wonderful with God’s creative fire.
+   At noon he stands, with Love’s large fortune spent
+      In petty traffic, unproductive, mean—
+         A pauper, cursed with impotent desire.
+
+
+
+
+COMPENSATIONS
+
+
+I
+BLIND
+
+
+   When first the shadows fell, like prison bars,
+   And darkness spread before me, like a pall,
+   I cried out for the sun, the earth, the stars,
+   And beat the air, as madmen beat a wall,
+   Till, impotent, and broken with despair,
+   I turned my vision inward.  Lo, a spark—
+   A light—a torch; and all my world grew bright;
+   For God’s dear eyes were shining through the dark.
+   Then, bringing to me gifts of recompense,
+   Came keener hearing, finer taste, and touch;
+   And that oft unappreciated sense,
+   Which finds sweet odours, and proclaims them such;
+   And not until my mortal eyes were blind
+   Did I perceive how kind the world, how kind.
+
+
+
+II
+DEAF
+
+
+   I can recall a time, when on mine ears
+   There fell chaotic sounds of earthly life,
+   Shrill cries of triumph, and hoarse shouts of strife;
+   A medley of despairs, and hopes and fears.
+   Then silence came, and unavailing tears.
+   The stillness stabbed me, like a two edged-knife;
+   Until I found the Universe was rife
+   With subtle music of the neighbouring spheres.
+   Such harmonies, such congruous sweet chords,
+   Wherein each note conveys a healing balm.
+   And now no more I miss men’s spoken words;
+   For, in a quiet world of larger thought,
+   I know the joy that comes from being calm.
+
+
+
+III
+SHUT-IN
+
+
+   Across my window glass
+   The moving shadows of the people pass.
+   Sometimes the shadow’s pause; and through the hall
+   Kind neighbours come to call,
+   Bringing a word or smile
+   To cheer my loneliness a little while.
+   But as I hear them talk,
+   These people who can walk
+   And go about the great green earth at will,
+   I wonder if they know the joy of being still,
+   And all alone with thoughts that soar afar—
+   High as the highest star.
+   And oft I feel more free
+   Than those who travel over land and sea.
+   For one who is shut in,
+   Away from all the outer strife and din,
+   With faithful Pain for guide,
+   Finds where Great Truths abide.
+
+   Across my window glass
+   The moving shadows pass.
+   But swifter moves my unimpeded thought,
+   Speeding from spot to spot—
+   Out and afar—
+   High as the highest star.
+
+
+
+
+SONG OF THE RAIL
+
+
+   Oh, an ugly thing is an iron rail,
+   Black, with its face to the dust.
+   But it carries a message where winged things fail;
+   It crosses the mountains, and catches the trail,
+   While the winds and the sea make sport of a sail;
+   Oh, a rail is a friend to trust.
+
+   The iron rail, with its face to the sod,
+   Is only a bar of ore;
+   Yet it speeds where never a foot has trod;
+   And the narrow path where it leads, grows broad;
+   And it speaks to the world in the voice of God,
+   That echoes from shore to shore.
+
+   Though the iron rail, on the earth down flung,
+   Seems kin to the loam and the soil,
+   Wherever its high shrill note is sung,
+   Out of the jungle fair homes have sprung,
+   And the voices of babel find one tongue,
+   In the common language of toil.
+
+   Of priest, and warrior, and conquering king,
+   Of Knights of the Holy Grail,
+   Of wonders of winter, and glories of spring,
+   Always and ever the poets sing;
+   But the great God-Force, in a lowly thing,
+   I sing, in my song of the rail.
+
+
+
+
+ALWAYS AT SEA
+
+
+   Always at sea I think about the dead.
+   On barques invisible they seem to sail
+   The self-same course; and from the decks cry ‘Hail’!
+   Then I recall old words that they have said,
+   And see their faces etched upon the mist—
+      Dear faces I have kissed.
+
+   Always the dead seem very close at sea.
+   The coarse vibrations of the earth debar
+   Our spirit friends from coming where we are.
+   But through God’s ether, unimpeded, free,
+   They wing their way, the ocean deeps above—
+      And find the hearts that love.
+
+   Always at sea my dead come very near.
+   A growing host; some old in spirit lore,
+   And some who crossed to find the other shore
+   But yesterday.  All, all, I see and hear
+   With inner senses, while the voice of faith
+      Proclaims—there is no death.
+
+
+
+
+THE SUITORS
+
+
+   There is a little Bungalow
+   Perched on a granite ledge,
+   And at its feet two suitors meet;
+   (I watch them, and I know)
+   One waits outside the casement edge;
+   One paces to and fro.
+
+   The Patient Rock speaks not a word;
+   The Sea goes up and down,
+   And sings full oft, in cadence soft;
+   (I listen, and have heard)
+   Again he wears an angry frown
+   By jealous passion stirred.
+
+   This dawn, the Rock was all aglow;
+   Far out the mad Sea went;
+   Beyond the raft, like one gone daft;
+   (I saw them, and I know)
+   While radiant and well content
+   Smiled down the Bungalow.
+
+   That was at Dawn; ere day had set,
+   The Sea with pleading voice
+   Came back to woo his love anew;
+   (I saw them when they met)
+   And now I know not which her choice—
+   (The Rock’s gray face was wet.)
+
+
+
+
+THE JEALOUS GODS
+
+
+   ‘Oh life is wonderful,’ she said,
+   ‘And all my world is bright;
+   Can Paradise show fairer skies,
+   Or more effulgent light?’
+   (Speak lower, lower, mortal heart,
+   The jealous gods may hear.)
+
+   She turned for answer; but his gaze
+   Cut past her like a lance,
+   And shone like flame on one who came
+   With radiant glance for glance.
+   (You spoke too loud, O mortal heart,
+   The jealous gods were near.)
+
+   They walked through green and sunlit ways;
+   And yet the earth seemed black,
+   For there were three, where two should be;
+   So runs the world, alack.
+   (The listening gods, the jealous gods,
+   They want no Edens here.)
+
+
+
+
+GOD RULES ALWAY
+
+
+   Into the world’s most high and holy places
+      Men carry selfishness, and graft and greed.
+   The air is rent with warring of the races;
+      Loud Dogmas drown a brother’s cry of need.
+   The Fleet-of-Creeds, upon Time’s ocean lurches;
+      And there is mutiny upon her decks;
+   And in the light of temples, and of churches,
+      Against life’s shores drift wrecks and derelicts.
+         (God rules, God rules alway.)
+
+   Right in the shadow of the lofty steeple,
+      Which crowns some costly edifice of faith,
+   Behold the throngs of hungry, unhoused people;
+      The ‘Bread Line,’ flanked by charity and death.
+   See yonder Churchman, opulently doing
+      Unnumbered deeds, which gladden and resound;
+   The while his thrifty tenant is pursuing
+      The white slave trade on sacred, untaxed ground.
+         (God rules, God rules alway.)
+
+   For these are but the outward signs of fever;
+      Those flaunting signs, which through delirium burn;
+   And the clear-seeing eye of each Believer
+      Can note the coming crisis.  It will turn,
+   For it has reached its summit.  Convalescing,
+      The sick world shall arise to strength and peace,
+   And earth shall bloom, with each and every blessing
+      Life waits to give, when wars and conflicts cease.
+         (God rules, God rules alway.)
+
+   This is a mighty hour.  No sounds of drumming,
+      No flying flags, no heralds do appear;
+   No Wise Men of the East proclaim His coming;
+      Yet He is coming—nay, our Christ is here!
+   And man shall leave his fever dreams behind him;
+      Those dreams of avarice, and lust, and sin,
+   And seek his Lord; yea, he shall seek and find Him,
+      In his own soul, where He has always been.
+         (God rules, God rules alway.)
+
+   Man longs for God.  Before the Christ we wot of,
+      With His brief mighty message, came to earth,
+   Before His life, or creed, or cross were thought of,
+      The love of love within man’s breast had birth.
+   But blindly, through his carnal senses reaching,
+      He plucked dead fruit, and nothing has sufficed;
+   Nor can his soul find rest in any teaching,
+      Until he knows that he, himself, is Christ.
+         (God rules, God rules alway.)
+
+   Oh, when he knows this truth in all its splendour,
+      What majesty, what glory crowns his life:
+   And, one with God, his every thought is tender;
+      He cannot enter into war, or strife.
+   His love goes out to every race and nation;
+      His whole religion lies in being kind.
+   THIS IS THE CREED THAT MEANS THE WORLD’S SALVATION;
+      THE BIRTH OF CHRIST IN EVERY MORTAL MIND.
+         (God rules, God rules alway.)
+
+
+
+
+THE CURE
+
+
+   You may talk of reformations, of the Economic Plan,
+      That shall stem the Social Evil in its course;
+   But the Ancient Sin of nations, must be got at in THE MAN.
+      If you want to cleanse a river, seek the source.
+
+   Ever since his first beginning, Man has had his way, in lust.
+      He has never learned the law of Self-Control;
+   And the World condones his sinning, and the Doctors say he must,
+      And the Churches shut their eyes, and take his toll.
+
+   And the lauded ‘Lovely Mothers’ send the son out into life
+      With no knowledge-welded armour for the fight;
+   ‘He will make his way like others, through the Oat field, to the
+   Wife’;
+      ‘He will somehow be led onward, to the light.’
+
+   Yes, his leaders, they shall find him.  On the highways at each turn,
+      (Since you did not choose to counsel or to warn,)
+   They shall tempt him, then shall bind him; they shall blight, and they
+   shall burn,
+      Down to offspring and descendants yet unborn.
+
+   It can never end through preaching; it can never end through laws;
+      This social sore, no punishment can heal.
+   _It must be the mother’s teaching of the purpose_, _and the cause_,
+      _And God’s glory_, _lying under sex appeal_.
+
+   She must feel no fear to name it to the children it has brought;
+      She must speak of it as sacred, and sublime;
+   She must beautify, not shame it, by her speech and by her thought;
+      Till they listen, and respect it, for all time.
+
+   From the heart they rested under ere they saw the light of day,
+      Must the daughters and the sons be taught this truth;
+   Till they think of it with wonder, as a holy thing alway;
+      While love’s wisdom guides them safely through their youth.
+
+   Oh, the world has made its devil, and the Mothers let it grow;
+      And the Man has dragged their thoughts down to the earth.
+   There will be no Social Evil, when each waking mind shall know
+      All the grandeur and the beauty hid in birth.
+
+   When each Mother sets the fashion to win confidence, and trust,
+      And to teach the mighty lesson, Self-Control,
+   We can lift the great Sex passion from the darkness and the dust,
+      And enshrine it on the altar of the soul.
+
+
+
+
+THE FORECAST
+
+
+   _It may be that I dreamed a dream_; _it may be that I saw_
+   _The forecast of a time to come by some supernal law_.
+
+   I seemed to dwell in this same world, and in this modern time;
+   Yet nowhere was there sight or sound of poverty or crime.
+   All strife had ceased; men were disarmed; and quiet Peace had made
+   A thousand avenues for toil, in place of War’s grim trade.
+   From east to west, from north to south where highways smooth and broad
+   Tied State to State, the waste lands bloomed, like garden spots of
+   God.
+   There were no beggars in the streets; there were no unemployed,
+   For each man owned his plot of ground, and laboured and enjoyed.
+   Sweet children grew like garden flowers; all strong and fair to see;
+   And when I marvelled at the sight, thus spake a Voice to me:
+   ‘All Motherhood is now an art; the greatest art on earth;
+   And nowhere is there known the crime of one unwelcome birth
+   From rights of parentage the sick and sinful are debarred;
+   For Matron Science keeps our house, and at the door stands guard.
+   We know the cure for darkness lies in letting in the light;
+   And Prisons are replaced by Schools, where wrong views change to
+   right.
+   The wisdom, knowledge, study, thought, once bent on beast and sod,
+   We give now to the human race, the highest work of God;
+   And, as the gardener chooses seed, so we select with care;
+   And as our Man Plant grows, we give him soil and sun and air.
+   There are no slums; no need of alms; all men are opulent,
+   For Mother Earth belongs to them, as was the First Intent.’
+
+   _It may be that I dreamed a dream_; _it may be that I saw_
+   _The forecast of a time to come by some supernal law_.
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE GIRLS
+
+
+   Whether you frolic with comrade boys,
+   Or sit at your studies, or play with toys,
+   Whatever your station, or place, or sphere,
+   For just one purpose God sent you here;
+   And always and ever, you are to me—
+   Dear little Mothers, of Men to be.
+
+   So would I guard you from all mean things;
+   From the dwarfing of wealth, and from poverty’s stings.
+   And from silly mothers of fuss and show,
+   And from dissolute fathers whose aims are low,
+   I would take you, and shield you, and set you free,
+   Dear little Mothers, of Men to be.
+
+   And then were the wish of my heart fulfilled,
+   Around about you, the world should build
+   A wall of Wisdom, with Truth for its Tower,
+   Where mind and body would wax in power,
+   Till the tender twig was a splendid tree—
+   Dear little Mothers, of Men to be.
+
+   It is only a dream; but the world grows wise,
+   And a mighty truth in the dream seed lies
+   That shall gladden the earth, in its time and place.
+   WE MUST BETTER THE MOTHERS TO BETTER THE RACE.
+   A dream? nay, a vision, which all must see,
+   Dear little Mothers, of Men to be.
+
+
+
+
+SCIENCE
+
+
+   Alone I climb the steep ascending path
+   Which leads to knowledge.  In the babbling throngs
+   That hurry after, shouting to the world
+   Small fragments of large truths, there is not one
+   Who comprehends my purpose, or who sees
+   The ultimate great goal.  Why, even she,
+   My heaven intended Spouse, my other self,
+   Religion, turns her beauteous face on me
+   With hatred in the eyes, where love should dwell.
+   While those who call me Master blindly run,
+   Wounding the ear of Faith with blasphemies,
+   And making useless slaughter in my name.
+
+   Mine is the difficult slow task to blaze
+   A road of Facts, through labyrinths of dreams
+   To tear down Maybe and establish IS:
+   And substitute I Know for I Believe.
+   I follow closely where the Seers have led:
+   But that intangible dim path of theirs,
+   Which may be trodden but by other Seers,
+   I seek to render solid for the feet
+   Of all mankind.  With reverent hands I lift
+   The mask from Mystery: and show the face
+   Of Reason, smiling bravely on the world.
+   The visions of the prophets, one by one,
+   Grew visible beneath my tireless touch:
+   And the white secrets of elusive stars
+   I tell aloud, to listening multitudes.
+
+   To fit the better world my toil ensures,
+   Time will impregnate with a better race
+   The Future’s womb: and when the hour is ripe,
+   To ready eyes of men, the alien spheres
+   Shall seem as friendly neighbours: and my skill
+   Shall make their music audible to ears
+   Which will be tuned to those high harmonies.
+
+   Mine is the work to fashion, step by step,
+   The shining Way that leads from man to God.
+   Though I demolish obstacles of creeds
+   And blast tradition, from the face of earth,
+   My hand shall open wide the door of Truth,
+   Whose other name is Faith: and at the end
+   Of this most holy labour, I shall turn
+   To see Religion, with enlightened eyes,
+   Seeking the welcome of my outstretched arms.
+   While all the world stands hushed and awed before
+   The proven splendour of the Fact Supreme.
+
+
+
+
+THE EARTH
+
+
+I
+
+
+   To build a house, with love for architect,
+   Ranks first and foremost in the joys of life.
+   And in a tiny cabin, shaped for two,
+   The space for happiness is just as great
+   As in a palace.  What a world were this
+   If each soul born received a plot of ground;
+   A little plot, whereon a home might rise,
+   And beauteous green things grow!
+            We give the dead,
+   The idle vagrant dead, the Potter’s Field;
+   Yet to the living not one inch of soil.
+   Nay, we take from them soil, and sun, and air,
+   To fashion slums and hell-holes for the race.
+   And to our poor we say, ‘Go starve and die
+   As beggars die; so gain your heritage.’
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+   That was a most uncanny dream; I thought the wraiths of those
+   Long buried in the Potter’s Field, in shredded shrouds arose;
+      They said, ‘Against the will of God
+      We have usurped the fertile sod,
+      Now will we make it yield.’
+
+   Oh! but it was a gruesome sight, to see those phantoms toil;
+   Each to his own small garden bent; each spaded up the soil;
+      (I never knew Ghosts laboured so.)
+      Each scattered seed, and watched, till lo!
+      The Graves were opulent.
+
+   Then all among the fragrant greens, the silent, spectral train
+   Walked, as if breathing in the breath of plant, and flower, and grain.
+      (I never knew Ghosts loved such things;
+      Perchance it brought back early springs
+      Before they thought of death.)
+
+   ‘The mothers’ milk for living babes; the earth for living hosts;
+   The clean flame for the un-souled dead.’  (Oh, strange the words of
+   Ghosts.)
+      ‘If we had owned this little spot
+      In life, we need not lie and rot
+      Here in a pauper’s bed.’
+
+
+
+
+THE MUSE AND THE POET
+
+
+   _The Muse said_, _Let us sing a little song_
+      _Wherein no hint of wrong_,
+   _No echo of the great world need_, _or pain_,
+      _Shall mar the strain_.
+   _Lock fast the swinging portal of thy heart_;
+      _Keep sympathy apart_.
+   _Sing of the sunset_, _of the dawn_, _the sea_;
+      _Of any thing or nothing_, _so there be_
+   _No purpose to thy art_.
+      _Yea_, _let us make_, _art for Art’s sake_.
+   _And sing no more unto the hearts of men_,
+      _But for the critic’s pen_.
+   _With songs that are but words_, _sweet sounding words_,
+      _Like joyous jargon of the birds_.
+   _Tune now thy lyre_, _O Poet_, _and sing on_.
+      _Sing of_
+
+
+
+THE DAWN
+
+
+   The Virgin Night, all languorous with dreams
+      Of her belovèd Darkness, rose in fear,
+      Feeling the presence of another near.
+   Outside her curtained casement shone the gleams
+         Of burning orbs; and modestly she hid
+      Her brow and bosom with her dusky hair.
+      When lo! the bold intruder lurking there
+         Leaped through the fragile lattice, all unbid,
+   And half unveiled her.  Then the swooning Night
+   Fell pale and dead, while yet her soul was white
+      Before that lawless Ravisher, the Light.
+
+   _The Muse said_, _Poet_, _nay_; _thou host not caught_
+   _My meaning_.  _For there lurks a thought_
+      _Back of thy song_.
+      _In art_, _all thought is wrong_.
+   _Re-string thy lyre_; _and let the echoes bound_
+   _To nothing but sweet sound_.
+      _Strike now the chords_
+      _And sing of_
+
+
+
+WORDS
+
+
+   One day sweet Ladye Language gave to me
+   A little golden key.
+      I sat me down beside her jewel box
+      And turned its locks.
+   And oh, the wealth that lay there in my sight.
+   Great solitaires of words, so bright, so bright;
+      Words that no use can commonize; like God,
+   And Truth, and Love; and words of sapphire blue;
+   And amber words; with sunshine dripping through;
+   And words of that strange hue
+      A pearl reveals upon a wanton’s hand.
+
+   _Again the Muse_:
+         _Thou dost not understand_;
+   _A thought within thy song is lingering yet_.
+   _Sing but of words_; _all else forget_, _forget_.
+      _Nor let thy words convey one thought to men_.
+      _Try once again_.
+
+   Down through the dusk and dew there fell a word;
+      Down through the dew and dusk.
+   And all the garments of the air it stirred
+      Smelled sweet as musk;
+   And all the little waves of air it kissed
+      Turned cold and amethyst.
+
+   There in the dew and dusk a heart it found;
+      There in the dusk and dew
+   The sodden silence changed to fragrant sound;
+      And all the world seemed new.
+   Upon the path that little word had trod,
+      There shone the smile of God.
+
+   _The Muse said_, _Drop thy lyre_.
+         _I tire_, _I tire_.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPINSTER
+
+
+I
+
+
+   Here are the orchard trees all large with fruit;
+   And yonder fields are golden with young grain.
+   In little journeys, branchward from the nest,
+   A mother bird, with sweet insistent cries,
+   Urges her young to use their untried wings.
+   A purring Tabby, stretched upon the sward,
+   Shuts and expands her velvet paws in joy,
+   While sturdy kittens nuzzle at her breast.
+
+   O mighty Maker of the Universe,
+   Am I not part and parcel of Thy World,
+   And one with Nature?  Wherefore, then, in me
+   Must this great reproductive impulse lie
+   Hidden, ashamed, unnourished, and denied,
+   Until it starves to slow and tortuous death?
+   I knew the hope of spring-time; like the tree
+   Now ripe with fruit, I budded, and then bloomed;
+   We laughed together through the young May morns;
+   We dreamed together through the summer moons;
+   Till all Thy purposes within the tree
+   Were to fruition brought.  Lord, Thou hast heard
+   The Woman in me crying for the Man;
+   The Mother in me crying for the Child;
+   And made no answer.  Am I less to Thee
+   Than lover forms of Nature, or in truth
+   Dost Thou hold Somewhere in another Realm
+   Full compensation and large recompense
+   For lonely virtue forced by fate to live
+   A life unnatural, in a natural world?
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+   Thou who hast made for such sure purposes
+   The mightiest and the meanest thing that is—
+   Planned out the lives of insects of the air
+   With fine precision and consummate care,
+   Thou who hast taught the bee the secret power
+   Of carrying on love’s laws ’twixt flower and flower,
+   Why didst Thou shape this mortal frame of mine,
+   If Heavenly joys alone were Thy design?
+   Wherefore the wonder of my woman’s breast,
+   By lips of lover and of babe unpressed,
+   If spirit children only shall reply
+   Unto my ever urgent mother cry?
+   Why should the rose be guided to its own,
+   And my love-craving heart beat on alone?
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+   Yet do I understand; for Thou hast made
+   Something more subtle than this heart of me;
+   A finer part of me
+   To be obeyed.
+
+   Albeit I am a sister to the earth,
+   This nature self is not the whole of me;
+   The deathless soul of me
+   Has nobler birth.
+
+   The primal woman hungers for the man;
+   My better self demands the mate of me;
+   The spirit fate of me,
+   Part of Thy plan.
+
+   Nature is instinct with the mother-need;
+   So is my heart; but ah, the child of me
+   Should, undefiled of me,
+   Spring from love’s seed.
+
+   And if, in barren chastity, I must
+   Know but in dreams that perfect choice of me,
+   Still will the voice of me
+   Proclaim God just.
+
+
+
+
+BROTHERHOOD
+
+
+   When in the even ways of life
+      The old world jogs along,
+   Our little coloured flags we flaunt:
+   Our little separate selves we vaunt:
+      Each pipes his native song.
+   And jealousy and greed and pride
+      Join their ungodly hands,
+   And this round lovely world divide
+      Into opposing lands.
+
+   But let some crucial hour of pain
+      Sound from the tower of time,
+   Then consciousness of brotherhood
+   Wakes in each heart the latent good,
+      And men become sublime.
+   As swarming insects of the night,
+      Fly when the sun bursts in,
+   Self fades, before love’s radiant light,
+      And all the world is kin.
+
+   God, what a place this earth would be
+      If that uplifting thought,
+   Born of some vast world accident,
+   Into our daily lives were blent,
+      And in each action wrought.
+   But while we let the old sins flock
+      Back to our hearts again,
+   In flame, and flood, and earthquake shock,
+      Thy voice must speak to men.
+
+
+
+
+‘THE TAVERN OF LAST TIMES’
+(AT BOX HILL, SURREY)
+
+
+   A modern hour from London (as we spin
+   Into a silver thread the miles of space
+   Between us and our goal), there is a place
+   Apart from city traffic, dust, and din,
+   Green with great trees, where hides a quiet Inn.
+   Here Nelson last looked on the lovely face
+   Which made his world; and by its magic grace
+   Trailed rosy clouds across each early sin.
+   And, leaning lawnward, is the room where Keats
+   Wrote the last one of those immortal songs
+   (Called by the critics of his day ‘mere rhymes’).
+   A lark, high in the boxwood bough repeats
+   Those lyric strains, to idle passing throngs,
+   There by the little Tavern-of-Last-Times.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO AGES
+
+
+   On a great cathedral window I have seen
+   A Summer sunset swoon and sink away,
+   Lost in the splendours of immortal art.
+   Angels and saints and all the heavenly hosts,
+   With smiles undimmed by half a thousand years,
+   From wall and niche have met my lifted gale.
+   Sculpture and carving and illumined page,
+   And the fair, lofty dreams of architects,
+   That speak of beauty to the centuries—
+   All these have fed me with divine repasts.
+   Yet in my mouth is left a bitter taste,
+   The taste of blood that stained that age of art.
+
+   Those glorious windows shine upon the black
+   And hideous structure of the guillotine;
+   Beside the haloed countenance of saints
+   There hangs the multiple and knotted lash.
+   The Christ of love, benign and beautiful,
+   Looks at the torture-rack, by hate conceived
+   And bigotry sustained.  The prison cell,
+   With blood-stained walls, where starving men went mad,
+   Lies under turrets matchless in their grace.
+
+   God, what an age!  How was it that You let
+   Colossal genius and colossal crime
+   Walk for a hundred years across the earth,
+   Like giant twins?  How was it then that men,
+   Conceiving such vast beauty for the world,
+   And such large hopes of heaven, could entertain
+   Such hellish projects for their human kin?
+   How could the hand that, with consummate skill
+   And loving patience, limned the luminous page,
+   Drop pen and brush, and seize the branding-rod,
+   To scourge a brother for his differing faith?
+
+   Not great this age in beauty or in art;
+   Nothing is wrought to-day that shall endure
+   For earth’s adornment, through long centuries;
+   Not ours the fervid worship of a God
+   That wastes its splendid opulence on glass,
+   Leaving but hate for hungry human hearts.
+   Yet great this age; its mighty work is man
+   Knowing himself the universal life.
+   And great our faith, which shows itself in works
+   For human freedom and for racial good.
+   The true religion lies in being kind.
+   No age is greater than its faith is broad.
+   Through liberty and love men climb to God.
+
+
+
+
+IF I WERE
+
+
+   If I were a raindrop, and you were a leaf,
+      I would burst from the cloud above you,
+   And lie on your breast in a rapture of rest,
+      And love you, love you, love you.
+
+   If I were a brown bee, and you were a rose,
+      I would fly to you, love, nor miss you;
+   I would sip and sip from your nectared lip,
+      And kiss you, kiss you, kiss you.
+
+   If I were a doe, dear, and you were a brook,
+      Ah, what would I do then, think you?
+   I would kneel by the bank, in the grasses dank,
+      And drink you, drink you, drink you.
+
+
+
+
+WARNED
+
+
+   They stood at the garden gate.
+      By the lifting of a lid
+   She might have read her fate
+      In a little thing he did.
+
+   He plucked a beautiful flower;
+      Tore it away from its place
+   On the side of the blooming bower;
+      And held it against his face.
+
+   Drank in its beauty and bloom,
+      In the midst of his idle talk;
+   Then cast it down to the gloom
+      And dust of the garden walk.
+
+   Ay, trod it under his foot,
+      As it lay in his pathway there;
+   Then spurned it away with his boot,
+      Because it bad ceased to be fair.
+
+   Ah! the maiden might have read
+      The doom of her young life then;
+   But she looked in his eyes instead,
+      And thought him the king of men.
+
+   She looked in his eyes and blushed,
+      She hid in his strong arms’ fold;
+   And the tale of the flower, crushed
+      And spurned, was once more told.
+
+
+
+
+FORWARD
+
+
+   Let me look always forward.  Never back.
+   Was I not formed for progress?  Otherwise
+   With onward pointing feet and searching eyes
+   Would God have set me squarely on the track
+   Up which we all must labour with life’s pack?
+   Yonder the goal of all this travel lies.
+   What matters it, if yesterday the skies
+   With light were golden, or with clouds were black?
+   I would not lose to-morrow’s glow of dawn
+   By peering backward after sun’s long set.
+   New hope is fairer than an old regret;
+   Let me pursue my journey and press on—
+   Nor tearful eyed, stand ever in one spot,
+   A briny statue like the wife of Lot.
+
+
+
+
+IN ENGLAND
+
+
+   In England there are wrongs, no doubt,
+   Which should be righted; so men say,
+   Who seek to weed earth’s garden out
+   And give the roses right of way.
+   Yes, right of way to fruit and rose,
+   Where now but poison ivy grows.
+
+   In England there is wide unrest
+   They tell me, who should know.  And yet
+   I saw but hedges gaily dressed,
+   And eyes, where love and kindness met.
+   Yes, love and kindness, met and made
+   Soft sunshine, even in the shade.
+
+   In England there are haunting things
+   Which follow one to other lands;
+   Like some pervading scent that clings
+   To laces, touched by vanished hands.
+   Yes, touched by vanished hands, that gave
+   A fragrance which defies the grave.
+
+   In England, centuries of art
+   Give common things a mellow tone,
+   And wake old memories in the heart
+   Of other lives the soul has known.
+   Yes, other lives in some past age
+   Start forth from canvas, or from page.
+
+   In England there are simple joys
+   The modern world has left all sweet;
+   In London’s heart are nooks, where noise
+   Has entered but with slippered feet;
+   Yes, entered softly.
+         Friend, believe,
+   To part from England is to grieve.
+
+
+
+
+KARMA
+
+
+I
+
+
+   We cannot choose our sorrows.  One there was
+   Who, reverent of soul, and strong with trust,
+   Cried, ‘God, though Thou shouldst bow me to the dust,
+   Yet will I praise thy everlasting laws.
+   Beggared, my faith would never halt or pause,
+   But sing Thy glory, feasting on a crust.
+   Only one boon, one precious boon I must
+   Demand of Thee, O opulent great Cause.
+   Let Love stay with me, constant to the end,
+   Though fame pass by and poverty pursue.’
+   With freighted hold her life ship onward sailed;
+   The world gave wealth, and pleasure, and a friend,
+   Unmarred by envy, and whose heart was true.
+   But ere the sun reached midday, Love had failed.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+   Then from the depths, in bitterness she cried,
+   ‘Hell is on earth, and heaven is but a dream;
+   And human life a troubled aimless stream;
+   And God is nowhere.  Would God so deride
+   A loving creature’s faith?’  A voice replied,
+   ‘The stream flows onward to the Source Supreme,
+   Where things that ARE replace the things that SEEM,
+   And where the deeds of all past lives abide.
+   Once at thy door Love languished and was spurned.
+   Who sorrow plants, must garner sorrow’s sheaf.
+   No prayers can change the seedling in the sod.
+   By thine own heart Love’s anguish must be learned.
+   Pass on, and know, as one made wise by grief,
+   That in thyself dwells heaven and hell and God.’
+
+
+
+
+THE GOSSIPS
+
+
+   A rose in my garden, the sweetest and fairest,
+      Was hanging her head through the long golden hours;
+   And early one morning I saw her tears falling,
+      And heard a low gossiping talk in the bowers.
+
+   The yellow Nasturtium, a spinster all faded,
+      Was telling a Lily what ailed the poor Rose:
+   ‘That wild, roving Bee, who was hanging about her
+      Has jilted her squarely, as every one knows.
+
+   ‘I knew when he came, with his singing and sighing,
+      His airs and his speeches, so fine and so sweet,
+   Just how it would end; but no one would believe me,
+      For all were quite ready to fall at his feet.’
+
+   ‘Indeed, you are wrong,’ said the Lilybelle proudly,
+      ‘I cared nothing for him.  He called on me once
+   And would have come often, no doubt, if I’d asked him.
+      But though he was handsome, I thought him a dunce.’
+
+   ‘Now, now, that’s not true,’ cried the tall Oleander.
+      ‘He has travelled and seen every flower that grows;
+   And one who has supped in the garden of princes,
+      We all might have known would not wed with the Rose.’
+
+   ‘But wasn’t she proud when he showed her attention?
+      And she let him caress her,’ said sly Mignonette.
+   ‘And I used to see it and blush for her folly.
+      The silly thing thinks he will come to her yet.’
+
+   ‘I thought he was splendid,’ said pretty, pert Larkspur.
+      ‘So dark and so grand, with that gay cloak of gold;
+   But he tried once to kiss me, the impudent fellow,
+      And I got offended; I thought him too bold.’
+
+   ‘Oh, fie!’ laughed the Almond.  ‘That does for a story.
+      Though I hang down my head, yet I see all that goes;
+   And I saw you reach out, trying hard to detain him,
+      But he just tapped your cheek and flew by to the Rose.
+
+   ‘He cared nothing for her, he only was flirting
+      To while away time, as every one knew;
+   So I turned a cold shoulder to all his advances,
+      Because I was certain his heart was untrue.’
+
+   ‘The Rose it served right for her folly in trusting
+      An oily-tongued stranger,’ quoth proud Columbine.
+   ‘I knew what he was, and thought once I would warn her.
+      But, of course, the affair was no business of mine.’
+
+   ‘Oh, well,’ cried the Peony, shrugging her shoulders,
+      ‘I saw all along that the Bee was a flirt;
+   But the Rose has been always so praised and so petted,
+      I thought a good lesson would do her no hurt.’
+
+   Just then came a sound of a love-song sung sweetly;
+      I saw my proud Rose lifting up her bowed head;
+   And the talk of the gossips was hushed in a moment,
+      And the whole garden listened to hear what was said.
+
+   And the dark, handsome Bee, with his cloak o’er his shoulder,
+      Came swift through the sunlight and kissed the sad Rose,
+   And whispered: ‘My darling, I’ve roved the world over,
+      And you are the loveliest blossom that grows.’
+
+
+
+
+TOGETHER
+
+
+   We two in the fever and fervour and glow
+      Of life’s high tide have rejoiced together;
+   We have looked out over the glittering snow,
+      And known we were dwelling in Summer weather,
+   For the seasons are made by the heart I hold,
+   And not by outdoor heat or cold.
+
+   We two, in the shadows of pain and woe,
+      Have journeyed together in dim, dark places,
+   Where black-robed Sorrow walked to and fro,
+      And Fear and Trouble, with phantom faces,
+   Peered out upon us and froze our blood,
+   Though June’s fair roses were all in bud.
+
+   We two have measured all depths, all heights,
+      We have bathed in tears, we have sunned in laughter!
+   We have known all sorrows and delights—
+      They never could keep us apart hereafter.
+   Whether your spirit went high or low,
+   My own would follow, and find you, I know.
+
+   If they took my soul into Paradise,
+      And told me I must be content without you,
+   I would weary them so with my lonesome cries,
+      And the ceaseless questions I asked about you,
+   They would open the gates and set me free,
+   Or else they would find you and bring you to me.
+
+
+
+
+PETITION
+
+
+   God, may Thy loving Spirit work,
+   In heart of Russian, and of Turk,
+   Until throughout each clime and land,
+   Armenian and Jew may stand,
+   And claim the right of every soul
+   To seek by its own path, the goal.
+   Parts of the Universal Force,
+   Rills from the same eternal Source
+   Back to that Source, all races go.
+   God, help Thy world to see it so.
+
+
+
+
+A WAFT OF PERFUME
+
+
+   A waft of perfume from a bit of lace
+      Moved lightly by a passing woman’s hand;
+   And on the common street, a sensuous grace
+      Shone suddenly from some lost time and land.
+
+   Tall structures changed to dome and parapet;
+      The stern-faced Church an oracle became;
+   In sheltered alcoves marble busts were set;
+      And on the wall frail Lais wrote her name.
+
+   Phryne before her judges stood at bay,
+      Fearing the rigour of Athenian laws;
+   Till Hyperides tore her cloak away,
+      And bade her splendid beauty plead its cause.
+
+   Great Alexander walking in the dusk,
+      Dreamed of the hour when Greek with Greek should meet;
+   From Thais’ window attar breathed, and musk:
+      His footsteps went no farther down the street.
+
+   Faint and more faint the pungent perfume grew;
+      Of wall and parapet remained no trace.
+   Temple and statue vanished from the view:
+      The city street again was commonplace.
+
+
+
+
+THE PLOUGH
+
+
+   If you listen you will hear, from east to west,
+   Growing sounds of discontent and deep unrest.
+   It is just the progress-driven plough of God,
+   Tearing up the well-worn custom-bounded sod;
+   Shaping out each old tradition-trodden track
+   Into furrows, fertile furrows, rich and black.
+   Oh, what harvests they will yield
+   When they widen to a field.
+
+   They will widen, they will broaden, day by day,
+   As the Progress-driven plough keeps on its way.
+   It will riddle all the ancient roads that lead
+   Into palaces of selfishness and greed;
+   It will tear away the almshouse and the slum
+   That the little homes and garden plots may come.
+   Yes, the gardens green and sweet
+   Shall replace the stony street.
+
+   Let the wise man hear the menace that is blent
+   In this ever-growing sound of discontent.
+   Let him hear the rising clamour of the race
+   That the few shall yield the many larger space.
+   For the crucial hour is coming when the soil
+   Must be given to, or taken back by Toil
+   Oh, that mighty plough of God;
+   Hear it breaking through the sod!
+
+
+
+
+GO PLANT A TREE
+
+
+   God, what a joy it is to plant a tree,
+   And from the sallow earth to watch it rise,
+   Lifting its emerald branches to the skies
+   In silent adoration; and to see
+   Its strength and glory waxing with each spring.
+   Yes, ’tis a goodly, and a gladsome thing
+   To plant a tree.
+
+   Nature has many marvels; but a tree
+   Seems more than marvellous.  It is divine.
+   So generous, so tender, so benign.
+   Not garrulous like the rivers; and yet free
+   In pleasant converse with the winds and birds;
+   Oh! privilege beyond explaining words,
+   To plant a tree.
+
+   Rocks are majestic; but, unlike a tree,
+   They stand aloof, and silent.  In the roar
+   Of ocean billows breaking on the shore
+   There sounds the voice of turmoil.  But a tree
+   Speaks ever of companionship and rest.
+   Yea, of all righteous acts, this, this is best,
+   To plant a tree.
+
+   There is an oak (oh! how I love that tree)
+   Which has been thriving for a hundred years;
+   Each day I send my blessing through the spheres
+   To one who gave this triple boon to me,
+   Of growing beauty, singing birds, and shade.
+   Wouldst thou win laurels that shall never fade?
+   Go plant a tree.
+
+
+
+
+PAIN’S PURPOSE
+
+
+   How blind is he who prays that God will send
+   All pain from earth.  Pain has its use and place;
+   Its ministry of holiness and grace.
+   The darker tones upon the canvas blend
+   With light and colour; and their shadows lend
+   The painting half its dignity.  Efface
+   The sombre background, and you lose all trace
+   Of that perfection which is true art’s trend.
+
+   Life is an artist seeking to reveal
+   God’s majesty and beauty in each soul.
+   If from the palette mortal man could steal
+   The precious pigment, pain, why then the scroll
+   Would glare with colours meaningless and bright,
+   Or show an empty canvas, blurred with light.
+
+
+
+
+MEMORY’S MANSION
+
+
+   In Memory’s Mansion are wonderful rooms,
+      And I wander about them at will;
+   And I pause at the casements, where boxes of blooms
+      Are sending sweet scents o’er the sill.
+   I lean from a window that looks on a lawn:
+      From a turret that looks on the wave.
+   But I draw down the shade, when I see on some glade,
+      A stone standing guard, by a grave.
+
+   To Memory’s attic I clambered one day,
+      When the roof was resounding with rain.
+   And there, among relics long hidden away,
+      I rummaged with heart-ache and pain.
+   A hope long surrendered and covered with dust,
+      A pastime, out-grown, and forgot,
+   And a fragment of love, all corroded with rust,
+      Were lying heaped up in one spot.
+
+   And there on the floor of that garret was tossed
+      A friendship too fragile to last,
+   With pieces of dearly bought pleasures, that cost
+      Vast fortunes of pain in the past.
+   A fabric of passion, once ardent and bright,
+      As tropical sunsets in spring,
+   Was spread out before me—a terrible sight—
+      A moth-eaten rag of a thing.
+
+   Then down the steep stairway I hurriedly went,
+      And into fair chambers below.
+   But the mansion seemed filled with the old attic scent,
+      Wherever my footsteps would go.
+   Though in Memory’s House I still wander full oft,
+      No more to the garret I climb;
+   And I leave all the rubbish heaped there in the loft
+      To the hands of the Housekeeper, Time.
+
+
+
+
+OLD RHYTHM AND RHYME
+
+
+   They tell me new methods now govern the Muses,
+      The modes of expression have changed with the times;
+   That low is the rank of the poet who uses
+      The old-fashioned verse with intentional rhymes.
+   And quite out of date, too, is rhythmical metre;
+      The critics declare it an insult to art.
+   But oh! the sweet swing of it, oh! the clear ring of it,
+      Oh the great pulse of it, right from the heart,
+            Art or no art.
+
+   I sat by the side of that old poet, Ocean,
+      And counted the billows that broke on the rocks;
+   The tide lilted in with a rhythmical motion;
+      The sea-gulls dipped downward in time-keeping flocks.
+   I watched while a giant wave gathered its forces,
+      And then on the gray granite precipice burst;
+   And I knew as I counted, while other waves mounted,
+      I knew the tenth billow would rhyme with the first.
+
+   Below in the village a church bell was chiming,
+      And back in the woodland a little bird sang;
+   And, doubt it who will, yet those two sounds were rhyming,
+      As out o’er the hill-tops they echoed and rang.
+
+   The Wind and the Trees fell to talking together;
+      And nothing they said was didactic or terse;
+   But everything spoken was told in unbroken
+      And beautiful rhyming and rhythmical verse.
+
+   So rhythm I hail it, though critics assail it,
+      And hold melting rhymes as an insult to art,
+   For oh! the sweet swing of it, oh! the dear ring of it,
+      Oh! the strong pulse of it, right from the heart,
+            Art or no art.
+
+
+
+
+ALL IN A COACH AND FOUR
+
+
+   The quality folk went riding by,
+   All in a coach and four,
+   And pretty Annette, in a calico gown
+   (Bringing her marketing things from town),
+   Stopped short with her Sunday store,
+   And wondered if ever it should betide
+   That she in a long plumed hat would ride
+      Away in a coach and four.
+
+   A lord there was, oh a lonely soul,
+   There in the coach and four.
+   His years were young but his heart was old,
+   And he hated his coaches and hated his gold
+   (Those things which we all adore).
+   And he thought how sweet it would be to trudge
+   Along with the fair little country drudge,
+      And away from his coach and four.
+
+   So back he rode the very next day
+   All in his coach and four,
+   And he went each day whether dry or wet,
+   Until he married the sweet Annette
+   (In spite of her lack of lore).
+   But they didn’t trudge off on foot together,
+   For he bought her a hat with a long, long feather,
+      And they rode in the coach and four.
+
+   Now a thing like this could happen we know,
+   All in a coach and four;
+   But the fact of it is, ’twixt me and you,
+   There isn’t a word of the story true
+   (Pardon I do implore).
+   It is only a foolish and fanciful song
+   That came to me as I rode along,
+      All in a coach and four.
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF A COUNTRY HOME
+
+
+I
+
+
+   Who has not felt his heart leap up, and glow
+   What time the Tulips first begin to blow,
+   Has one sweet joy still left for him to know.
+
+   It is like early love’s imagining,
+   That fragile pleasure which the Tulips bring,
+   When suddenly we see them, in the Spring.
+
+   Not all the garden’s later royal train,
+   Not great triumphant Roses, when they reign,
+   Can bring that delicate delight again.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+   One of the sweetest hours is this;
+   (Of all I think we like it best);
+   A little restful oasis,
+   Between the breakfast and the post.
+   Just south of coffee and of toast,
+   Just north of daily task and duty;
+   Just west of dreams, this island gleams,
+   A fertile spot of peace and beauty.
+
+   We wander out across the lawn;
+   We idle by a bush in bloom;
+   The household pets come following on;
+   Or if the day is one of gloom,
+   We loiter in a pleasant room,
+   Or from a casement lean and chatter.
+   Then comes the mail, like sudden hail,
+   And off we scatter.
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+   When Roses die, in languid August days,
+   We leave the garden to its fallen ways,
+   And seek the shelter of wide porticoes,
+   Where Honeysuckle in defiance blows
+   Undaunted by the sun’s too ardent rays.
+
+   The matron Summer turns a wistful gaze
+   Across green valleys, back to tender Mays;
+   And something of her large contentment goes,
+         When Roses die;
+   Yet all her subtle fascination stays
+   To lure us into idle, sweet delays.
+   The lowered awning by the hammock shows
+   Inviting nooks for dreaming and repose;
+   Oh, restful are the pleasures of those days
+         When Roses die.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+   The summer folk, fled back to town;
+   The green woods changed to red and brown;
+   A sound upon the frosty air
+   Of windows closing everywhere.
+
+   And then the log, lapped by a blaze—
+   Oh! what is better than these days;
+   With books and friends and love a-near;
+   Go on, gay world, but leave me here.
+
+
+
+
+WORTHY THE NAME OF ‘SIR KNIGHT’
+
+
+   Sir Knight of the world’s oldest order,
+      Sir Knight of the Army of God,
+   You have crossed the strange mystical border,
+      The ground-floor of truth you have trod;
+   You stand on the typical threshold
+      Which leads to the temple above;
+   Where you come as a stone, and a Christ-chosen one,
+      In the Kingdom of Friendship and Love.
+
+   As you stand in this new realm of beauty,
+      Where each man you meet is your friend,
+   Think not that your promise of duty
+      In hall, or asylum, shall end.
+   Outside, in the great world of pleasure.
+      Beyond in the clamour of trade,
+   In the battle of life and its coarse daily strife,
+      Remember the vows you have made.
+
+   Your service, majestic and solemn,
+      Your symbols, suggestive and sweet,
+   Your uniform phalanx in column
+      On gala-days marching the street;
+   Your sword and your plume and your helmet,
+      Your ‘secrets’ hid from the world’s sight;
+   These things are the small, lesser parts of the all
+      Which are needed to form the true Knight.
+
+   The martyrs who perished rejoicing,
+      In Templary’s glorious laws,
+   Who died ’midst the faggots while voicing
+      The glory and worth of their cause—
+   They honoured the title of ‘Templar’
+      No more than the Knight of to-day,
+   Who mars not the name with one blemish of shame,
+      But carries it clean through life’s fray.
+
+   To live for a cause; to endeavour
+      To make your deeds grace it; to try
+   And uphold its precepts for ever,
+      Is harder by far than to die.
+   For the battle of life is unending,
+      The enemy, Self, never tires,
+   And the true Knight must slay that sly foe every day,
+      Ere he reaches the heights he desires.
+
+   Sir Knight, have you pondered the meaning
+      Of all you have heard and been told?
+   Have you strengthened your heart for its weaning
+      From vices and faults loved of old?
+   Will you honour, in hours of temptation,
+      Your promises noble and grand?
+   Will your spirit be strong to do battle with wrong,
+      ‘And, having done all, to stand’?
+
+   Will you ever be true to a brother
+      In actions as well as in creed?
+   Will you stand by his side as no other
+      Could stand, in the hour of his need?
+   Will you boldly defend him from peril,
+      And lift from him poverty’s curse—
+   Will the promise of old, which you willingly made,
+      Reach down from your lips to your purse?
+
+   The world’s battle-field is before you:
+      Let Wisdom walk close by your side,
+   Let Faith spread her snowy wings o’er you,
+      Let Truth be your comrade and guide;
+   Let Fortitude, Justice, and Mercy
+      Direct all your conduct aright,
+   And let each word and act tell to men the proud fact,
+      You are worthy the name of ‘Sir Knight.’
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+         Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty
+                    at the Edinburgh University Press.
+
+
+

PG6027_text.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,1328 @@
+Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+IN THE CLOSED ROOM
+
+by
+
+FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
+
+Author of Little Lord Fauntleroy and The Little Princess
+
+
+
+Illustrations by
+
+Jessie Willcox Smith
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+The playing today was even a lovelier, happier thing than it had
+ever been before . . . . Frontispiece
+
+She often sat curving her small long fingers backward
+
+They gazed as if they had known each other for ages of years
+
+"Come and play with me"
+
+She must go and stand at the door and press her cheek against the
+wood and wait--and listen
+
+She began to mount the stairs which led to the upper floors
+
+The ledge of the window was so low that a mere step took her
+outside
+
+"I'm going up to play with the little girl, mother . . . You
+don't mind, do you?"
+
+
+
+
+PART ONE
+
+
+In the fierce airless heat of the small square room the child
+Judith panted as she lay on her bed. Her father and mother slept
+near her, drowned in the heavy slumber of workers after their
+day's labour. Some people in the next flat were quarrelling,
+irritated probably by the appalling heat and their miserable
+helplessness against it. All the hot emanations of the sun-baked
+city streets seemed to combine with their clamour and unrest, and
+rise to the flat in which the child lay gazing at the darkness.
+It was situated but a few feet from the track of the Elevated
+Railroad and existence seemed to pulsate to the rush and roar of
+the demon which swept past the windows every few minutes. No one
+knew that Judith held the thing in horror, but it was a truth
+that she did. She was only seven years old, and at that age it is
+not easy to explain one's self so that older people can
+understand.
+
+She could only have said, "I hate it. It comes so fast. It is
+always coming. It makes a sound as if thunder was quite close. I
+can never get away from it." The children in the other flats
+rather liked it. They hung out of the window perilously to watch
+it thunder past and to see the people who crowded it pressed
+close together in the seats, standing in the aisles, hanging on
+to the straps. Sometimes in the evening there were people in it
+who were going to the theatre, and the women and girls were
+dressed in light colours and wore hats covered with white
+feathers and flowers. At such times the children were delighted,
+and Judith used to hear the three in the next flat calling out to
+each other, "That's MY lady! That's MY lady! That one's mine!"
+
+Judith was not like the children in the other flats. She was a
+frail, curious creature, with silent ways and a soft voice and
+eyes. She liked to play by herself in a corner of the room and to
+talk to herself as she played. No one knew what she talked about,
+and in fact no one inquired. Her mother was always too busy. When
+she was not making men's coats by the score at the whizzing
+sewing machine, she was hurriedly preparing a meal which was
+always in danger of being late. There was the breakfast, which
+might not be ready in time for her husband to reach his "shop"
+when the whistle blew; there was the supper, which might not be
+in time to be in waiting for him when he returned in the evening.
+The midday meal was a trifling matter, needing no special
+preparation. One ate anything one could find left from supper or
+breakfast.
+
+Judith's relation to her father and mother was not a very
+intimate one. They were too hard worked to have time for domestic
+intimacies, and a feature of their acquaintance was that though
+neither of them was sufficiently articulate to have found
+expression for the fact--the young man and woman felt the child
+vaguely remote. Their affection for her was tinged with something
+indefinitely like reverence. She had been a lovely baby with a
+peculiar magnolia whiteness of skin and very large, sweetly
+smiling eyes of dark blue, fringed with quite black lashes. She
+had exquisite pointed fingers and slender feet, and though Mr.
+and Mrs. Foster were--perhaps fortunately--unaware of it, she had
+been not at all the baby one would have expected to come to life
+in a corner of the hive of a workman's flat a few feet from the
+Elevated Railroad.
+
+"Seems sometimes as if somehow she couldn't be mine," Mrs. Foster
+said at times. "She ain't like me, an' she ain't like Jem Foster,
+Lord knows. She ain't like none of either of our families I've
+ever heard of--'ceptin' it might be her Aunt Hester--but SHE died
+long before I was born. I've only heard mother tell about her.
+She was a awful pretty girl. Mother said she had that kind of
+lily-white complexion and long slender fingers that was so supple
+she could curl 'em back like they was double-jointed. Her eyes
+was big and had eyelashes that stood out round 'em, but they was
+brown. Mother said she wasn't like any other kind of girl, and
+she thinks Judith may turn out like her. She wasn't but fifteen
+when she died. She never was ill in her life--but one morning she
+didn't come down to breakfast, and when they went up to call her,
+there she was sittin' at her window restin' her chin on her hand,
+with her face turned up smilin' as if she was talkin' to some
+one. The doctor said it had happened hours before, when she had
+come to the window to look at the stars. Easy way to go, wasn't
+it?"
+
+Judith had heard of her Aunt Hester, but she only knew that she
+herself had hands like her and that her life had ended when she
+was quite young. Mrs. Foster was too much occupied by the
+strenuousness of life to dwell upon the passing of souls. To her
+the girl Hester seemed too remote to appear quite real. The
+legends of her beauty and unlikeness to other girls seemed rather
+like a sort of romance.
+
+As she was not aware that Judith hated the Elevated Railroad, so
+she was not aware that she was fond of the far away Aunt Hester
+with the long-pointed fingers which could curl backwards. She did
+not know that when she was playing in her corner of the room,
+where it was her way to sit on her little chair with her face
+turned towards the wall, she often sat curving her small long
+fingers backward and talking to herself about Aunt Hester. But
+this--as well as many other things--was true. It was not
+secretiveness which caused the child to refrain from speaking of
+certain things. She herself could not have explained the reasons
+for her silence; also it had never occurred to her that
+explanation and reasons were necessary. Her mental attitude was
+that of a child who, knowing a certain language, does not speak
+it to those who have never heard and are wholly ignorant of it.
+She knew her Aunt Hester as her mother did not. She had seen her
+often in her dreams and had a secret fancy that she could dream
+of her when she wished to do so. She was very fond of dreaming of
+her. The places where she came upon Aunt Hester were strange and
+lovely places where the air one breathed smelled like flowers and
+everything was lovely in a new way, and when one moved one felt
+so light that movement was delightful, and when one wakened one
+had not quite got over the lightness and for a few moments felt
+as if one would float out of bed.
+
+The healthy, vigourous young couple who were the child's parents
+were in a healthy, earthly way very fond of each other. They had
+made a genuine love match and had found it satisfactory. The
+young mechanic Jem Foster had met the young shop-girl Jane Hardy,
+at Coney Island one summer night and had become at once enamoured
+of her shop-girl good looks and high spirits. They had married as
+soon as Jem had had the "raise" he was anticipating and had from
+that time lived with much harmony in the flat building by which
+the Elevated train rushed and roared every few minutes through
+the day and a greater part of the night. They themselves did not
+object to the "Elevated"; Jem was habituated to uproar in the
+machine shop, in which he spent his days, and Jane was too much
+absorbed in the making of men's coats by the dozens to observe
+anything else. The pair had healthy appetites and slept well
+after their day's work, hearty supper, long cheerful talk, and
+loud laughter over simple common joking.
+
+"She's a queer little fish, Judy," Jane said to her husband as
+they sat by the open window one night, Jem's arm curved
+comfortably around the young woman's waist as he smoked his pipe.
+"What do you think she says to me to-night after I put her to
+bed?"
+
+"Search ME!" said Jem oracularly.
+
+Jane laughed.
+
+"'Why,' she says, 'I wish the Elevated train would stop.'
+
+"'Why?' says I.
+
+"'I want to go to sleep,' says she. 'I'm going to dream of Aunt
+Hester.'"
+
+"What does she know about her Aunt Hester," said Jem. "Who's been
+talkin' to her?"
+
+"Not me," Jane said. "She don't know nothing but what she's
+picked up by chance. I don't believe in talkin' to young ones
+about dead folks. 'Tain't healthy."
+
+"That's right," said Jem. "Children that's got to hustle about
+among live folks for a livin' best keep their minds out of
+cemeteries. But, Hully Gee, what a queer thing for a young one to
+say."
+
+"And that ain't all," Jane went on, her giggle half amused, half
+nervous. "'But I don't fall asleep when I see Aunt Hester,' says
+she. 'I fall awake. It's more awake there than here.'
+
+"'Where?' says I, laughing a bit, though it did make me feel
+queer.
+
+"'I don't know' she says in that soft little quiet way of hers.
+'There.' And not another thing could I get out of her."
+
+On the hot night through whose first hours Judith lay panting in
+her corner of the room, tormented and kept awake by the constant
+roar and rush and flash of lights, she was trying to go to sleep
+in the hope of leaving all the heat and noise and discomfort
+behind, and reaching Aunt Hester. If she could fall awake she
+would feel and hear none of it. It would all be unreal and she
+would know that only the lightness and the air like flowers and
+the lovely brightness were true. Once, as she tossed on her
+cot-bed, she broke into a low little laugh to think how untrue
+things really were and how strange it was that people did not
+understand--that even she felt as she lay in the darkness that
+she could not get away. And she could not get away unless the
+train would stop just long enough to let her fall asleep. If she
+could fall asleep between the trains, she would not awaken. But
+they came so quickly one after the other. Her hair was damp as
+she pushed it from her forehead, the bed felt hot against her
+skin, the people in the next flat quarreled more angrily, Judith
+heard a loud slap, and then the woman began to cry. She was a
+young married woman, scarcely more than a girl. Her marriage had
+not been as successful as that of Judith's parents. Both husband
+and wife had irritable tempers. Through the thin wall Judith
+could hear the girl sobbing angrily as the man flung himself out
+of bed, put on his clothes and went out, banging the door after
+him.
+
+"She doesn't know," the child whispered eerily, "that it isn't
+real at all."
+
+There was in her strange little soul a secret no one knew the
+existence of. It was a vague belief that she herself was not
+quite real--or that she did not belong to the life she had been
+born into. Her mother and father loved her and she loved them,
+but sometimes she was on the brink of telling them that she could
+not stay long--that some mistake had been made. What mistake--or
+where was she to go to if she went, she did not know. She used to
+catch her breath and stop herself and feel frightened when she
+had been near speaking of this fantastic thing. But the building
+full of workmen's flats, the hot room, the Elevated Railroad, the
+quarrelling people, were all a mistake. Just once or twice in her
+life she had seen places and things which did not seem so
+foreign. Once, when she had been taken to the Park in the Spring,
+she had wandered away from her mother to a sequestered place
+among shrubs and trees, all waving tender, new pale green, with
+the leaves a few early hot days had caused to rush out and
+tremble unfurled. There had been a stillness there and scents and
+colours she knew. A bird had come and swung upon a twig quite
+near her and, looking at her with bright soft full eyes, had sung
+gently to her, as if he were speaking. A squirrel had crept up
+onto her lap and had not moved when she stroked it. Its eyes had
+been full and soft also, and she knew it understood that she
+could not hurt it. There was no mistake in her being among the
+new fair greenness, and the woodland things who spoke to her.
+They did not use words, but no words were needed. She knew what
+they were saying. When she had pushed her way through the
+greenness of the shrubbery to the driveway she had found herself
+quite near to an open carriage, which had stopped because the
+lady who sat in it was speaking to a friend on the path. She was
+a young woman, dressed in delicate spring colours, and the little
+girl at her side was dressed in white cloth, and it was at the
+little girl Judith found herself gazing. Under her large white
+hat and feathers her little face seemed like a white flower. She
+had a deep dimple near her mouth. Her hair was a rich coppery red
+and hung heavy and long about her cheeks and shoulders. She
+lifted her head a little when the child in the common hat and
+frock pressed through the greenness of the bushes and she looked
+at Judith just as the bird and the squirrel had looked at her.
+They gazed as if they had known each other for ages of years and
+were separated by nothing. Each of them was quite happy at being
+near the other, and there was not in the mind of either any
+question of their not being near each other again. The question
+did not rise in Judith's mind even when in a very few minutes the
+carriage moved away and was lost in the crowd of equipages
+rolling by.
+
+At the hottest hours of the hot night Judith recalled to herself
+the cool of that day. She brought back the fresh pale greenness
+of the nook among the bushes into which she had forced her way,
+the scent of the leaves and grass which she had drawn in as she
+breathed, the nearness in the eyes of the bird, the squirrel, and
+the child. She smiled as she thought of these things, and as she
+continued to remember yet other things, bit by bit, she felt less
+hot--she gradually forgot to listen for the roar of the
+train--she smiled still more--she lay quite still--she was
+cool--a tiny fresh breeze fluttered through the window and played
+about her forehead. She was smiling in soft delight as her
+eyelids drooped and closed.
+
+"I am falling awake," she was murmuring as her lashes touched her
+cheek.
+
+Perhaps when her eyes closed the sultriness of the night had
+changed to the momentary freshness of the turning dawn, and the
+next hour or so was really cooler. She knew no more heat but
+slept softly, deeply, long--or it seemed to her afterwards that
+she had slept long--as if she had drifted far away in dreamless
+peace.
+
+She remembered no dream, saw nothing, felt nothing until, as it
+seemed to her, in the early morning, she opened her eyes. All was
+quite still and clear--the air of the room was pure and sweet.
+There was no sound anywhere and, curiously enough, she was not
+surprised by this, nor did she expect to hear anything disturbing.
+
+She did not look round the room. Her eyes remained resting upon
+what she first saw--and she was not surprised by this either. A
+little girl about her own age was standing smiling at her. She
+had large eyes, a deep dimple near her mouth, and coppery red
+hair which fell about her cheeks and shoulders. Judith knew her
+and smiled back at her.
+
+She lifted her hand--and it was a pure white little hand with
+long tapering fingers.
+
+"Come and play with me," she said--though Judith heard no voice
+while she knew what she was saying. "Come and play with me."
+
+Then she was gone, and in a few seconds Judith was awake, the air
+of the room had changed, the noise and clatter of the streets
+came in at the window, and the Elevated train went thundering by.
+Judith did not ask herself how the child had gone or how she had
+come. She lay still, feeling undisturbed by everything and
+smiling as she had smiled in her sleep.
+
+While she sat at the breakfast table she saw her mother looking
+at her curiously.
+
+"You look as if you'd slept cool instead of hot last night," she
+said. "You look better than you did yesterday. You're pretty
+well, ain't you, Judy?"
+
+Judith's smile meant that she was quite well, but she said
+nothing about her sleeping.
+
+The heat did not disturb her through the day, though the hours
+grew hotter and hotter as they passed. Jane Foster, sweltering at
+her machine, was obliged to stop every few minutes to wipe the
+beads from her face and neck. Sometimes she could not remain
+seated, but got up panting to drink water and fan herself with a
+newspaper.
+
+"I can't stand much more of this," she kept saying. "If there
+don't come a thunderstorm to cool things off I don't know what
+I'll do. This room's about five hundred."
+
+But the heat grew greater and the Elevated trains went thundering
+by.
+
+When Jem came home from his work his supper was not ready. Jane
+was sitting helplessly by the window, almost livid in her pallor.
+The table was but half spread.
+
+"Hullo," said Jem; "it's done you up, ain't it?"
+
+"Well, I guess it has," good-naturedly, certain of his sympathy.
+"But I'll get over it presently, and then I can get you a cold
+bite. I can't stand over the stove and cook."
+
+"Hully Gee, a cold bite's all a man wants on a night like this.
+Hot chops'd give him the jim-jams. But I've got good news for
+you--it's cheered me up myself."
+
+Jane lifted her head from the chair back.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Well, it came through my boss. He's always been friendly to me.
+He asks a question or so every now and then and seems to take an
+interest. To-day he was asking me if it wasn't pretty hot and
+noisy down here, and after I told him how we stood it, he said he
+believed he could get us a better place to stay in through the
+summer. Some one he knows has had illness and trouble in his
+family and he's obliged to close his house and take his wife away
+into the mountains. They've got a beautiful big house in one of
+them far up streets by the Park and he wants to get caretakers in
+that can come well recommended. The boss said he could recommend
+us fast enough. And there's a big light basement that'll be as
+cool as the woods. And we can move in to-morrow. And all we've
+got to do is to see that things are safe and live happy."
+
+"Oh, Jem!" Jane ejaculated. "It sounds too good to be true! Up by
+the Park! A big cool place to live!"
+
+"We've none of us ever been in a house the size of it. You know
+what they look like outside, and they say they're bigger than
+they look. It's your business to go over the rooms every day or
+so to see nothing's going wrong in them--moths or dirt, I
+suppose. It's all left open but just one room they've left locked
+and don't want interfered with. I told the boss I thought the
+basement would seem like the Waldorf-Astoria to us. I tell you I
+was so glad I scarcely knew what to say."
+
+Jane drew a long breath.
+
+"A big house up there," she said. "And only one closed room in
+it. It's too good to be true!"
+
+"Well, whether it's true or not we'll move out there to-morrow,"
+Jem answered cheerfully. "To-morrow morning bright and early. The
+boss said the sooner the better."
+
+
+A large house left deserted by those who have filled its rooms
+with emotions and life, expresses a silence, a quality all its
+own. A house unfurnished and empty seems less impressively
+silent. The fact of its devoidness of sound is upon the whole
+more natural. But carpets accustomed to the pressure of
+constantly passing feet, chairs and sofas which have held human
+warmth, draperies used to the touch of hands drawing them aside
+to let in daylight, pictures which have smiled back at thinking
+eyes, mirrors which have reflected faces passing hourly in
+changing moods, elate or dark or longing, walls which have echoed
+back voices--all these things when left alone seem to be held in
+strange arrest, as if by some spell intensifying the effect of
+the pause in their existence.
+
+The child Judith felt this deeply throughout the entirety of her
+young being.
+
+"How STILL it is," she said to her mother the first time they
+went over the place together.
+
+"Well, it seems still up here--and kind of dead," Jane Foster
+replied with her habitual sociable half-laugh. "But seems to me
+it always feels that way in a house people's left. It's cheerful
+enough down in that big basement with all the windows open. We
+can sit in that room they've had fixed to play billiards in. We
+shan't hurt nothing. We can keep the table and things covered up.
+Tell you, Judy, this'll be different from last summer. The Park
+ain't but a few steps away an' we can go and sit there too when
+we feel like it. Talk about the country--I don't want no more
+country than this is. You'll be made over the months we stay
+here."
+
+Judith felt as if this must veritably be a truth. The houses on
+either side of the street were closed for the summer. Their
+occupants had gone to the seaside or the mountains and the
+windows and doors were boarded up. The street was a quiet one at
+any time, and wore now the aspect of a street in a city of the
+dead. The green trees of the Park were to be seen either gently
+stirring or motionless in the sun at the side of the avenue
+crossing the end of it. The only token of the existence of the
+Elevated Railroad was a remote occasional hum suggestive of the
+flying past of a giant bee. The thing seemed no longer a roaring
+demon, and Judith scarcely recognized that it was still the
+centre of the city's rushing, heated life.
+
+The owners of the house had evidently deserted it suddenly. The
+windows had not been boarded up and the rooms had been left in
+their ordinary condition. The furniture was not covered or the
+hangings swathed. Jem Foster had been told that his wife must put
+things in order.
+
+The house was beautiful and spacious, its decorations and
+appointments were not mere testimonies to freedom of expenditure,
+but expressions of a dignified and cultivated thought. Judith
+followed her mother from room to room in one of her singular
+moods. The loftiness of the walls, the breadth and space about
+her made her, at intervals, draw in her breath with pleasure. The
+pictures, the colours, the rich and beautiful textures she saw
+brought to her the free--and at the same time soothed--feeling
+she remembered as the chief feature of the dreams in which she
+"fell awake." But beyond all other things she rejoiced in the
+height and space, the sweep of view through one large room into
+another. She continually paused and stood with her face lifted
+looking up at the pictured things floating on a ceiling above
+her. Once, when she had stood doing this long enough to forget
+herself, she was startled by her mother's laugh, which broke in
+upon the silence about them with a curiously earthly sound which
+was almost a shock.
+
+"Wake up, Judy; have you gone off in a dream? You look all the
+time as if you was walking in your sleep."
+
+"It's so high," said Judy. "Those clouds make it look like the sky."
+
+"I've got to set these chairs straight," said Jane. "Looks like
+they'd been havin' a concert here. All these chairs together an'
+that part of the room clear."
+
+She began to move the chairs and rearrange them, bustling about
+cheerfully and talking the while. Presently she stooped to pick
+something up.
+
+"What's this," she said, and then uttered a startled exclamation.
+"Mercy! they felt so kind of clammy they made me jump. They HAVE
+had a party. Here's some of the flowers left fallen on the
+carpet."
+
+She held up a cluster of wax-white hyacinths and large heavy
+rosebuds, faded to discoloration.
+
+"This has dropped out of some set piece. It felt like cold flesh
+when I first touched it. I don't like a lot of white things
+together. They look too kind of mournful. Just go and get the
+wastepaper basket in the library, Judy. We'll carry it around to
+drop things into. Take that with you."
+
+Judith carried the flowers into the library and bent to pick up
+the basket as she dropped them into it.
+
+As she raised her head she found her eyes looking directly into
+other eyes which gazed at her from the wall. They were smiling
+from the face of a child in a picture. As soon as she saw them
+Judith drew in her breath and stood still, smiling, too, in
+response. The picture was that of a little girl in a floating
+white frock. She had a deep dimple at one corner of her mouth,
+her hanging hair was like burnished copper, she held up a slender
+hand with pointed fingers and Judith knew her. Oh! she knew her
+quite well. She had never felt so near any one else throughout
+her life.
+
+"Judy, Judy!" Jane Foster called out. "Come here with your
+basket; what you staying for?"
+
+Judith returned to her.
+
+"We've got to get a move on," said Jane, "or we shan't get
+nothin' done before supper time. What was you lookin' at?"
+
+"There's a picture in there of a little girl I know," Judith
+said. "I don't know her name, but I saw her in the Park once
+and--and I dreamed about her."
+
+"Dreamed about her? If that ain't queer. Well, we've got to hurry
+up. Here's some more of them dropped flowers. Give me the
+basket."
+
+They went through the whole house together, from room to room, up
+the many stairs, from floor to floor, and everywhere Judith felt
+the curious stillness and silence. It can not be doubted that
+Jane Foster felt it also.
+
+"It is the stillest house I was ever in," she said. "I'm glad
+I've got you with me, Judy. If I was sole alone I believe it 'ud
+give me the creeps. These big places ought to have big families
+in them."
+
+It was on the fourth floor that they came upon the Closed Room.
+Jane had found some of the doors shut and some open, but a turn
+of the handle gave entrance through all the unopened ones until
+they reached this one at the back on the fourth floor.
+
+"This one won't open," Jane said, when she tried the handle. Then
+she shook it once or twice. "No, it's locked," she decided after
+an effort or two. "There, I've just remembered. There's one kept
+locked. Folks always has things they want locked up. I'll make
+sure, though."
+
+She shook it, turned the handle, shook again, pressed her knee
+against the panel. The lock resisted all effort.
+
+"Yes, this is the closed one," she made up her mind. "It's locked
+hard and fast. It's the closed one."
+
+It was logically proved to be the closed one by the fact that she
+found no other one locked as she finished her round of the
+chambers.
+
+Judith was a little tired before they had done their work. But
+her wandering pilgrimage through the large, silent, deserted
+house had been a revelation of new emotions to her. She was
+always a silent child. Her mind was so full of strange thoughts
+that it seemed unnecessary to say many words. The things she
+thought as she followed her from room to room, from floor to
+floor, until they reached the locked door, would have amazed and
+puzzled Jane Foster if she had known of their existence. Most of
+all, perhaps, she would have been puzzled by the effect the
+closed door had upon the child. It puzzled and bewildered Judith
+herself and made her feel a little weary.
+
+She wanted so much to go into the room. Without in the least
+understanding the feeling, she was quite shaken by it. It seemed
+as if the closing of all the other rooms would have been a small
+matter in comparison with the closing of this one. There was
+something inside which she wanted to see--there was something--somehow
+there was something which wanted to see her. What a pity that the door
+was locked! Why had it been done? She sighed unconsciously several
+times during the evening, and Jane Foster thought she was tired.
+
+"But you'll sleep cool enough to-night, Judy," she said. "And get
+a good rest. Them little breezes that comes rustling through the
+trees in the Park comes right along the street to us."
+
+She and Jem Foster slept well. They spent the evening in the
+highest spirits and--as it seemed to them--the most luxurious
+comfort. The space afforded them by the big basement, with its
+kitchen and laundry and pantry, and, above all, the specially
+large room which had been used for billiard playing, supplied
+actual vistas. For the sake of convenience and coolness they used
+the billiard room as a dormitory, sleeping on light cots, and
+they slept with all their windows open, the little breezes
+wandering from among the trees of the Park to fan them. How they
+laughed and enjoyed themselves over their supper, and how they
+stretched themselves out with sighs of joy in the darkness as
+they sank into the cool, untroubled waters of deep sleep.
+
+"This is about the top notch," Jem murmured as he lost his hold
+on the world of waking life and work.
+
+But though she was cool, though she was undisturbed, though her
+body rested in absolute repose, Judith did not sleep for a long
+time. She lay and listened to the quietness. There was mystery in
+it. The footstep of a belated passer-by in the street woke
+strange echoes; a voice heard in the distance in a riotous shout
+suggested weird things. And as she lay and listened, it was as if
+she were not only listening but waiting for something. She did
+not know at all what she was waiting for, but waiting she was.
+
+She lay upon her cot with her arms flung out and her eyes wide
+open. What was it that she wanted--that which was in the closed
+room? Why had they locked the door? If they had locked the doors
+of the big parlours it would not have mattered. If they had
+locked the door of the library--Her mind paused--as if for a
+moment, something held it still. Then she remembered that to have
+locked the doors of the library would have been to lock in the
+picture of the child with the greeting look in her eyes and the
+fine little uplifted hand. She was glad the room had been left
+open. But the room up-stairs--the one on the fourth floor--that
+was the one that mattered most of all. She knew that to-morrow
+she must go and stand at the door and press her cheek against the
+wood and wait--and listen. Thinking this and knowing that it must
+be so, she fell--at last--asleep.
+
+
+
+PART TWO
+
+
+Judith climbed the basement stairs rather slowly. Her mother was
+busy rearranging the disorder the hastily departing servants had
+left. Their departure had indeed been made in sufficient haste to
+have left behind the air of its having been flight. There was a
+great deal to be done, and Jane Foster, moving about with broom
+and pail and scrubbing brushes, did not dislike the excitement of
+the work before her. Judith's certainty that she would not be
+missed made all clear before her. If her absence was observed her
+mother would realize that the whole house lay open to her and
+that she was an undisturbing element wheresoever she was led
+either by her fancy or by circumstance. If she went into the
+parlours she would probably sit and talk to herself or play
+quietly with her shabby doll. In any case she would be finding
+pleasure of her own and would touch nothing which could be
+harmed.
+
+When the child found herself in the entrance hall she stopped a
+few moments to look about her. The stillness seemed to hold her
+and she paused to hear and feel it. In leaving the basement
+behind, she had left the movement of living behind also. No one
+was alive upon this floor--nor upon the next--nor the next. It
+was as if one had entered a new world--a world in which something
+existed which did not express itself in sound or in things which
+one could see. Chairs held out their arms to emptiness--cushions
+were not pressed by living things--only the people in the
+pictures were looking at something, but one could not tell what
+they were looking at.
+
+But on the fourth floor was the Closed Room, which she must go
+to--because she must go to it--that was all she knew.
+
+She began to mount the stairs which led to the upper floors. Her
+shabby doll was held against her hip by one arm, her right hand
+touched the wall as she went, she felt the height of the wall as
+she looked upward. It was such a large house and so empty. Where
+had the people gone and why had they left it all at once as if
+they were afraid? Her father had only heard vaguely that they had
+gone because they had had trouble.
+
+She passed the second floor, the third, and climbed towards the
+fourth. She could see the door of the Closed Room as she went up
+step by step, and she found herself moving more quickly. Yes, she
+must get to it--she must put her hand on it--her chest began to
+rise and fall with a quickening of her breath, and her breath
+quickened because her heart fluttered--as if with her haste. She
+began to be glad, and if any one could have seen her they would
+have been struck by a curious expectant smile in her eyes.
+
+She reached the landing and crossed it, running the last few
+steps lightly. She did not wait or stand still a moment. With the
+strange expectant smile on her lips as well as in her eyes, she
+put her hand upon the door--not upon the handle, but upon the
+panel. Without any sound it swung quietly open. And without any
+sound she stepped quietly inside.
+
+The room was rather large and the light in it was dim. There were
+no shutters, but the blinds were drawn down. Judith went to one
+of the windows and drew its blind up so that the look of the
+place might be clear to her. There were two windows and they
+opened upon the flat roof of an extension, which suggested
+somehow that it had been used as a place to walk about in. This,
+at least, was what Judith thought of at once--that some one who
+had used the room had been in the habit of going out upon the
+roof and staying there as if it had been a sort of garden. There
+were rows of flower pots with dead flowers in them--there were
+green tubs containing large shrubs, which were dead also--against
+the low parapet certain of them held climbing plants which had
+been trained upon it. Two had been climbing roses, two were
+clematis, but Judith did not know them by name. The ledge of the
+window was so low that a mere step took her outside. So taking
+it, she stood among the dried, withered things and looked in
+tender regret at them.
+
+"I wish they were not dead," she said softly to the silence. "It
+would be like a garden if they were not dead."
+
+The sun was hot, but a cool, little breeze seemed straying up
+from among the trees of the Park. It even made the dried leaves
+of the flowers tremble and rustle a little. Involuntarily she
+lifted her face to the blue sky and floating white clouds. They
+seemed so near that she felt almost as if she could touch them
+with her hand. The street seemed so far--so far below--the whole
+world seemed far below. If one stepped off the parapet it would
+surely take one a long time to reach the earth. She knew now why
+she had come up here. It was so that she might feel like this--as
+if she was upheld far away from things--as if she had left
+everything behind--almost as if she had fallen awake again. There
+was no perfume in the air, but all was still and sweet and clear.
+
+Suddenly she turned and went into the room again, realizing that
+she had scarcely seen it at all and that she must see and know
+it. It was not like any other room she had seen. It looked more
+simple, though it was a pretty place. The walls were covered with
+roses, there were bright pictures, and shelves full of books.
+There was also a little writing desk and there were two or three
+low chairs, and a low table. A closet in a corner had its door
+ajar and Judith could see that inside toys were piled together.
+In another corner a large doll's house stood, looking as if some
+one had just stopped playing with it. Some toy furniture had been
+taken out and left near it upon the carpet.
+
+"It was a little girl's room," Judith said. "Why did they close
+it?"
+
+Her eye was caught by something lying on a sofa--something
+covered with a cloth. It looked almost like a child lying there
+asleep--so fast asleep that it did not stir at all. Judith moved
+across to the sofa and drew the cloth aside. With its head upon a
+cushion was lying there a very large doll, beautifully dressed in
+white lace, its eyes closed, and a little wreath of dead flowers
+in its hair.
+
+"It looks almost as if it had died too," said Judith.
+
+She did not ask herself why she said "as if it had died
+too"--perhaps it was because the place was so still--and
+everything so far away--that the flowers had died in the strange,
+little deserted garden on the roof.
+
+She did not hear any footsteps--in fact, no ghost of a sound
+stirred the silence as she stood looking at the doll's sleep--but
+quite quickly she ceased to bend forward, and turned round to
+look at something which she knew was near her. There she was--and
+it was quite natural she should be there--the little girl with
+the face like a white flower, with the quantity of burnished
+coppery hair and the smile which deepened the already deep dimple
+near her mouth.
+
+"You have come to play with me," she said.
+
+"Yes," answered Judith. "I wanted to come all night. I could not
+stay down-stairs."
+
+"No," said the child; "you can't stay down-stairs. Lift up the
+doll."
+
+They began to play as if they had spent their lives together.
+Neither asked the other any questions. Judith had not played with
+other children, but with this one she played in absolute and
+lovely delight. The little girl knew where all the toys were, and
+there were a great many beautiful ones. She told Judith where to
+find them and how to arrange them for their games. She invented
+wonderful things to do--things which were so unlike anything
+Judith had ever seen or heard or thought of that it was not
+strange that she realized afterwards that all her past life and
+its belongings had been so forgotten as to be wholly blotted out
+while she was in the Closed Room. She did not know her playmate's
+name, she did not remember that there were such things as names.
+Every moment was happiness. Every moment the little girl seemed
+to grow more beautiful in the flower whiteness of her face and
+hands and the strange lightness and freedom of her movements.
+There was an ecstasy in looking at her--in feeling her near.
+
+Not long before Judith went down-stairs she found herself
+standing with her outside the window in among the withered
+flowers.
+
+"It was my garden," the little girl said. "It has been so hot and
+no one has been near to water them, so they could not live."
+
+She went lightly to one of the brown rose-bushes and put her
+pointed-fingered little hand quite near it. She did not touch it,
+but held her hand near--and the leaves began to stir and uncurl
+and become fresh and tender again, and roses were nodding,
+blooming on the stems. And she went in the same manner to each
+flower and plant in turn until all the before dreary little
+garden was bright and full of leaves and flowers.
+
+"It's Life," she said to Judith. Judith nodded and smiled back at
+her, understanding quite well just as she had understood the eyes
+of the bird who had swung on the twig so near her cheek the day
+she had hidden among the bushes in the Park.
+
+"Now, you must go," the little girl said at last. And Judith went
+out of the room at once--without waiting or looking back, though
+she knew the white figure did not stir till she was out of sight.
+
+It was not until she had reached the second floor that the change
+came upon her. It was a great change and a curious one. The
+Closed Room became as far away as all other places and things had
+seemed when she had stood upon the roof feeling the nearness of
+the blueness and the white clouds--as when she had looked round
+and found herself face to face with the child in the Closed Room.
+She suddenly realized things she had not known before. She knew
+that she had heard no voice when the little girl spoke to
+her--she knew that it had happened, that it was she only who had
+lifted the doll--who had taken out the toys--who had arranged the
+low table for their feast, putting all the small service upon
+it--and though they had played with such rapturous enjoyment and
+had laughed and feasted--what had they feasted on? That she could
+not recall--and not once had she touched or been touched by the
+light hand or white dress--and though they seemed to express
+their thoughts and intentions freely she had heard no voice at
+all. She was suddenly bewildered and stood rubbing her hand over
+her forehead and her eyes--but she was happy--as happy as when
+she had fallen awake in her sleep--and was no more troubled or
+really curious than she would have been if she had had the same
+experience every day of her life.
+
+"Well, you must have been having a good time playing up-stairs,"
+Jane Foster said when she entered the big kitchen. "This is going
+to do you good, Judy. Looks like she'd had a day in the country,
+don't she, Jem?"
+
+Through the weeks that followed her habit of "playing up-stairs"
+was accepted as a perfectly natural thing. No questions were
+asked and she knew it was not necessary to enter into any
+explanations.
+
+Every day she went to the door of the Closed Room and, finding it
+closed, at a touch of her hand upon the panel it swung softly
+open. There she waited--sometimes for a longer sometimes for a
+shorter time--and the child with the coppery hair came to her.
+The world below was gone as soon as she entered the room, and
+through the hours they played together joyously as happy children
+play. But in their playing it was always Judith who touched the
+toys--who held the doll---who set the little table for their
+feast. Once as she went down-stairs she remembered that when she
+had that day made a wreath of roses from the roof and had gone to
+put it on her playmate's head, she had drawn back with deepened
+dimple and, holding up her hand, had said, laughing: "No. Do not
+touch me."
+
+But there was no mystery in it after all. Judith knew she should
+presently understand.
+
+She was so happy that her happiness lived in her face in a sort
+of delicate brilliance. Jane Foster observed the change in her
+with exceeding comfort, her view being that spacious quarters,
+fresh air, and sounder sleep had done great things for her.
+
+"Them big eyes of hers ain't like no other child's eyes I've ever
+seen," she said to her husband with cheerful self-gratulation.
+"An' her skin's that fine an' thin an' fair you can jest see
+through it. She always looks to me as if she was made out of
+different stuff from me an' you, Jem. I've always said it."
+
+"She's going to make a corking handsome girl," responded Jem with
+a chuckle.
+
+They had been in the house two months, when one afternoon, as she
+was slicing potatoes for supper, Jane looked round to see the
+child standing at the kitchen doorway, looking with a puzzled
+expression at some wilted flowers she held in her hand. Jane's
+impression was that she had been coming into the room and had
+stopped suddenly to look at what she held.
+
+"What've you got there, Judy?" she asked.
+
+"They're flowers," said Judith, her eyes still more puzzled.
+
+"Where'd you get 'em from? I didn't know you'd been out. I
+thought you was up-stairs."
+
+"I was," said Judith quite simply. "In the Closed Room."
+
+Jane Foster's knife dropped into her pan with a splash.
+
+"Well," she gasped.
+
+Judith looked at her with quiet eyes.
+
+"The Closed Room!" Jane cried out. "What are you saying? You
+couldn't get in?"
+
+"Yes, I can."
+
+Jane was conscious of experiencing a shock. She said afterwards
+that suddenly something gave her the creeps.
+
+"You couldn't open the door," she persisted. "I tried it again
+yesterday as I passed by--turned the handle and gave it a regular
+shove and it wouldn't give an inch."
+
+"Yes," the child answered; "I heard you. We were inside then."
+
+A few days later, when Jane weepingly related the incident to
+awe-stricken and sympathizing friends, she described as
+graphically as her limited vocabulary would allow her to do so,
+the look in Judith's face as she came nearer to her.
+
+"Don't tell me there was nothing happening then," she said. "She
+just came up to me with them dead flowers in her hand an' a kind
+of look in her eyes as if she was half sorry for me an' didn't
+know quite why.
+
+"'The door opens for me,' she says. 'That's where I play every
+day. There's a little girl comes and plays with me. She comes in
+at the window, I think. She is like the picture in the room where
+the books are. Her hair hangs down and she has a dimple near her
+mouth.'
+
+"I couldn't never tell any one what I felt like. It was as if I'd
+got a queer fright that I didn't understand.
+
+"'She must have come over the roof from the next house,' I says.
+'They've got an extension too--but I thought the people were gone
+away.'
+
+"'There are flowers on our roof,' she said. 'I got these there.'
+And that puzzled look came into her eyes again. 'They were
+beautiful when I got them--but as I came down-stairs they died.'
+
+"'Well, of all the queer things,' I said. She put out her hand
+and touched my arm sort of lovin' an' timid.
+
+"'I wanted to tell you to-day, mother,' she said. 'I had to tell
+you to-day. You don't mind if I go play with her, do you? You
+don't mind?'
+
+"Perhaps it was because she touched me that queer little loving
+way--or was it the way she looked--it seemed like something came
+over me an' I just grabbed her an' hugged her up.
+
+"'No,' I says. 'So as you come back. So as you come back.'
+
+"And to think!" And Jane rocked herself sobbing.
+
+A point she dwelt on with many tears was that the child seemed in
+a wistful mood and remained near her side--bringing her little
+chair and sitting by her as she worked, and rising to follow her
+from place to place as she moved from one room to the other.
+
+"She wasn't never one as kissed you much or hung about like some
+children do--I always used to say she was the least bother of any
+child I ever knew. Seemed as if she had company of her own when
+she sat in her little chair in the corner whispering to herself
+or just setting quiet." This was a thing Jane always added during
+all the years in which she told the story. "That was what made me
+notice. She kept by me and she kept looking at me different from
+any way I'd seen her look before--not pitiful exactly--but
+something like it. And once she came up and kissed me and once or
+twice she just kind of touched my dress or my hand--as I stood by
+her. SHE knew. No one need tell me she didn't."
+
+But this was an error. The child was conscious only of a tender,
+wistful feeling, which caused her to look at the affectionate
+healthy young woman who had always been good to her and whom she
+belonged to, though she remotely wondered why--the same
+tenderness impelled her to touch her arm, hand and simple dress,
+and folding her arms round her neck to kiss her softly. It was an
+expression of gratitude for all the rough casual affection of the
+past. All her life had been spent at her side--all her life on
+earth had sprung from her.
+
+When she went up-stairs to the Closed Room the next day she told
+her mother she was going before she left the kitchen.
+
+"I'm going up to play with the little girl, mother," she said.
+"You don't mind, do you?"
+
+Jane had had an evening of comfortable domestic gossip and joking
+with Jem, had slept, slept soundly and eaten a hearty breakfast.
+Life had reassumed its wholly normal aspect. The sun was shining
+hot and bright and she was preparing to scrub the kitchen floor.
+She believed that the child was mistaken as to the room she had
+been in.
+
+"That's all right," she said, turning the hot water spigot over
+the sink so that the boiling water poured forth at full flow into
+her pail, with clouds of steam. "But when I've done my scrubbing
+I'm comin' up to see if it IS the Closed Room you play in. If it
+is, I guess you'd better play somewhere else--and I want to find
+out how you get that door open. Run along if you like."
+
+Judith came back to her from the door. "Yes," she said, "come and
+see. But if she is there," putting her hand on Jane's hip gently,
+"you mustn't touch her."
+
+Jane turned off the hot water and stared.
+
+"Her!"
+
+"The little girl who plays. _I_ never touch her. She says I must
+not."
+
+Jane lifted her pail from the sink, laughing outright.
+
+"Well, that sounds as if she was a pretty airy young one," she
+said. "I guess you're a queer little pair. Run on. I must get at
+this floor."
+
+Judith ran up the three flights of stairs lightly. She was glad
+she had told her mother, though she wondered vaguely why it had
+never seemed right to tell her until last night, and last night
+it had seemed not so much necessary as imperative. Something had
+obliged her to tell her. The time had come when she must know.
+The Closed Room door had always shut itself gently after Judith
+had passed through it, and yesterday, when her mother passing by
+chance, had tried the handle so vigorously, the two children
+inside the room had stood still gazing at each other, but neither
+had spoken and Judith had not thought of speaking. She was out of
+the realm of speech, and without any sense of amazement was aware
+that she was out of it. People with voices and words were in that
+faraway world below.
+
+The playing to-day was even a lovelier, happier thing than it had
+ever been before. It seemed to become each minute a thing farther
+and farther away from the world in the streets where the Elevated
+Railroad went humming past like a monster bee. And with the sense
+of greater distance came a sense of greater lightness and
+freedom. Judith found that she was moving about the room and the
+little roof garden almost exactly as she had moved in the waking
+dreams where she saw Aunt Hester--almost as if she was floating
+and every movement was ecstasy. Once as she thought this she
+looked at her playmate, and the child smiled and answered her as
+she always did before she spoke.
+
+"Yes," she said; "I know her. She will come. She sent me."
+
+She had this day a special plan with regard to the arranging of
+the Closed Room. She wanted all the things in it--the doll--the
+chairs--the toys--the little table and its service to be placed
+in certain positions. She told Judith what to do. Various toys
+were put here or there--the little table was set with certain
+dishes in a particular part of the room. A book was left lying
+upon the sofa cushion, the large doll was put into a chair near
+the sofa, with a smaller doll in its arms, on the small writing
+desk a letter, which Judith found in a drawer--a half-written
+letter--was laid, the pen was left in the ink. It was a strange
+game to play, but somehow Judith felt it was very pretty. When it
+was all done--and there were many curious things to do--the
+Closed Room looked quite different from the cold, dim, orderly
+place the door had first opened upon. Then it had looked as if
+everything had been swept up and set away and covered and done
+with forever--as if the life in it had ended and would never
+begin again. Now it looked as if some child who had lived in it
+and loved and played with each of its belongings, had just
+stepped out from her play--to some other room quite near--quite
+near. The big doll in its chair seemed waiting--even listening to
+her voice as it came from the room she had run into.
+
+The child with the burnished hair stood and looked at it with her
+delicious smile.
+
+"That is how it looked," she said. "They came and hid and covered
+everything--as if I had gone--as if I was Nowhere. I want her to
+know I come here. I couldn't do it myself. You could do it for
+me. Go and bring some roses."
+
+The little garden was a wonder of strange beauty with its masses
+of flowers. Judith brought some roses from the bush her playmate
+pointed out. She put them into a light bowl which was like a
+bubble of thin, clear glass and stood on the desk near the
+letter.
+
+"If they would look like that," the little girl said, "she would
+see. But no one sees them like that--when the Life goes away with
+me."
+
+After that the game was finished and they went out on the roof
+garden and stood and looked up into the blue above their heads.
+How blue--how blue--how clear--how near and real! And how far and
+unreal the streets and sounds below. The two children stood and
+looked up and laughed at the sweetness of it.
+
+Then Judith felt a little tired.
+
+"I will go and lie down on the sofa," she said.
+
+"Yes," the little girl answered. "It's time for you to go to
+sleep."
+
+They went into the Closed Room and Judith lay down. As she did
+so, she saw that the door was standing open and remembered that
+her mother was coming up to see her and her playmate.
+
+The little girl sat down by her. She put out her pretty fine hand
+and touched Judith for the first time. She laid her little
+pointed fingers on her forehead and Judith fell asleep.
+
+
+It seemed only a few minutes before she wakened again. The little
+girl was standing by her.
+
+"Come," she said.
+
+They went out together onto the roof among the flowers, but a
+strange--a beautiful thing had happened. The garden did not end
+at the parapet and the streets and houses were not below. The
+little garden ended in a broad green pathway--green with thick,
+soft grass and moss covered with trembling white and blue
+bell-like flowers. Trees--fresh leaved as if spring had just
+awakened them--shaded it and made it look smiling fair. Great
+white blossoms tossed on their branches and Judith felt that the
+scent in the air came from them. She forgot the city was below,
+because it was millions and millions of miles away, and this was
+where it was right to be. There was no mistake. This was real.
+All the rest was unreal--and millions and millions of miles away.
+
+They held each other's slim-pointed hands and stepped out upon
+the broad, fresh green pathway. There was no boundary or end to
+its beauty, and it was only another real thing that coming
+towards them from under the white, flowering trees was Aunt
+Hester.
+
+
+In the basement Jane Foster was absorbed in her labours, which
+were things whose accustomedness provided her with pleasure. She
+was fond of her scrubbing, she enjoyed the washing of her dishes,
+she definitely entertained herself with the splash and soapy foam
+of her washtubs and the hearty smack and swing of her ironing. In
+the days when she had served at the ribbon counter in a
+department store, she had not found life as agreeable as she had
+found it since the hours which were not spent at her own private
+sewing machine were given to hearty domestic duties providing
+cleanliness, savoury meals, and comfort for Jem.
+
+She was so busy this particular afternoon that it was inevitable
+that she should forget all else but the work which kept her on
+her knees scrubbing floors or on a chair polishing windows, and
+afterwards hanging before them bits of clean, spotted muslin.
+
+She was doing this last when her attention being attracted by
+wheels in the street stopping before the door, she looked out to
+see a carriage door open and a young woman, dressed in exceptionally
+deep mourning garb, step onto the pavement, cross it, and ascend the
+front steps.
+
+"Who's she?" Jane exclaimed disturbedly. "Does she think the
+house is to let because it's shut?" A ring at the front door bell
+called her down from her chair. Among the duties of a caretaker
+is naturally included that of answering the questions of
+visitors. She turned down her sleeves, put on a fresh apron, and
+ran up-stairs to the entrance hall.
+
+When she opened the door, the tall, young woman in black stepped
+inside as if there were no reason for her remaining even for a
+moment on the threshold.
+
+"I am Mrs. Haldon," she said. "I suppose you are the caretaker?"
+
+Haldon was the name of the people to whom the house belonged. Jem
+Foster had heard only the vaguest things of them, but Jane
+remembered that the name was Haldon, and remembering that they
+had gone away because they had had trouble, she recognized at a
+glance what sort of trouble it had been. Mrs. Haldon was tall and
+young, and to Jane Foster's mind, expressed from head to foot the
+perfection of all that spoke for wealth and fashion. Her garments
+were heavy and rich with crape, the long black veil, which she
+had thrown back, swept over her shoulder and hung behind her,
+serving to set forth, as it were, more pitifully the white
+wornness of her pretty face, and a sort of haunting eagerness in
+her haggard eyes. She had been a smart, lovely, laughing and
+lovable thing, full of pleasure in the world, and now she was so
+stricken and devastated that she seemed set apart in an awful
+lonely world of her own.
+
+She had no sooner crossed the threshold than she looked about her
+with a quick, smitten glance and began to tremble. Jane saw her
+look shudder away from the open door of the front room, where the
+chairs had seemed left as if set for some gathering, and the
+wax-white flowers had been scattered on the floor.
+
+She fell into one of the carved hall seats and dropped her face
+into her hands, her elbows resting on her knees.
+
+"Oh! No! No!" she cried. "I can't believe it. I can't believe
+it!"
+
+Jane Foster's eyes filled with good-natured ready tears of
+sympathy.
+
+"Won't you come up-stairs, ma'am?" she said. "Wouldn't you like
+to set in your own room perhaps?"
+
+"No! No!" was the answer. "She was always there! She used to come
+into my bed in the morning. She used to watch me dress to go out.
+No! No!"
+
+"I'll open the shutters in the library," said Jane.
+
+"Oh! No! No! No! She would be sitting on the big sofa with her
+fairy story-book. She's everywhere--everywhere! How could I come!
+Why did I! But I couldn't keep away! I tried to stay in the
+mountains. But I couldn't. Something dragged me day and night.
+Nobody knows I am here!" She got up and looked about her again.
+"I have never been in here since I went out with HER," she said.
+"They would not let me come back. They said it would kill me. And
+now I have come--and everything is here--all the things we lived
+with--and SHE is millions and millions--and millions of miles
+away!"
+
+"Who--who--was it?" Jane asked timidly in a low voice.
+
+"It was my little girl," the poor young beauty said. "It was my
+little Andrea. Her portrait is in the library."
+
+Jane began to tremble somewhat herself. "That--?" she began--and
+ended: "She is DEAD?"
+
+Mrs. Haldon had dragged herself almost as if unconsciously to the
+stairs. She leaned against the newel post and her face dropped
+upon her hand.
+
+"Oh! I don't KNOW!" she cried. "I cannot believe it. How COULD it
+be? She was playing in her nursery--laughing and playing--and she
+ran into the next room to show me a flower--and as she looked up
+at me--laughing, I tell you--laughing--she sank slowly down on
+her knees--and the flower fell out of her hand quietly--and
+everything went out of her face--everything was gone away from
+her, and there was never anything more--never!"
+
+Jane Foster's hand had crept up to her throat. She did not know
+what made her cold.
+
+"My little girl--" she began, "her name is Judith--"
+
+"Where is she?" said Mrs. Haldon in a breathless way.
+
+"She is up-stairs," Jane answered slowly. "She goes--into that
+back room--on the fourth floor--"
+
+Mrs. Haldon turned upon her with wide eyes.
+
+"It is locked!" she said. "They put everything away. I have the
+key."
+
+"The door opens for her," said Jane. "She goes to play with a
+little girl--who comes to her. I think she comes over the roof
+from the next house."
+
+"There is no child there!" Mrs. Haldon shuddered. But it was not
+with horror. There was actually a wild dawning bliss in her face.
+"What is she like?"
+
+"She is like the picture." Jane scarcely knew her own monotonous
+voice. The world of real things was being withdrawn from her and
+she was standing without its pale--alone with this woman and her
+wild eyes. She began to shiver because her warm blood was growing
+cold. "She is a child with red hair--and there is a deep dimple
+near her mouth. Judith told me. You must not touch her."
+
+She heard a wild gasp--a flash of something at once anguish and
+rapture blazed across the haggard, young face--and with a
+swerving as if her slight body had been swept round by a sudden
+great wind, Mrs. Haldon turned and fled up the stairs.
+
+Jane Foster followed. The great wind swept her upward too. She
+remembered no single intake or outlet of breath until she was
+upon the fourth floor.
+
+The door of the Closed Room stood wide open and Mrs. Haldon was
+swept within.
+
+Jane Foster saw her stand in the middle of the room a second, a
+tall, swaying figure. She whirled to look about her and flung up
+her arms with an unearthly rapturous, whispered cry:
+
+"It is all as she left it when she ran to me and fell. She has
+been here--to show me it is not so far!"
+
+She sank slowly upon her knees, wild happiness in her face--wild
+tears pouring down it.
+
+"She has seen her!" And she stretched forth yearning arms towards
+the little figure of Judith, who lay quiet upon the sofa in the
+corner. "Your little girl has seen her--and I dare not waken her.
+She is asleep."
+
+Jane stood by the sofa--looking down. When she bent and touched
+the child the stillness of the room seemed to have got into her
+blood.
+
+"No," she said, quivering, but with a strange simplicity. "No!
+not asleep! It was this way with her Aunt Hester."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+

PG6034_text.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,994 @@
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Copyright (C) 2002 by L.M. Wong
+Dommy dominaeprimus@yahoo.com
+
+
+
+
+RHYME AND REASON
+VOLUME TWO
+BY Dom
+A complement and continuation to the compilation, 'RHYME AND REASON'.
+
+Dedicated to the cherished and cheeky peeps.
+
+
+Bravo ! :
+
+You speak to one and speak to all
+Our minds ye have gracefully touched
+In joy we leap and misery we crawl
+But in Belief and Faith we have much
+8>)
+
+
+The '99 Blues (composed in 1999) :
+
+Then garrisons marched out to conquer
+half the world ruled from the center
+with mastery of steel and agility
+discipline ensured victory
+in the reign of conquerors
+just a few millenniums ago
+
+The sea a vast briny divide
+civilization still ruled by the tide
+then brave explorers discovered
+new lands and the people conquered
+their stake upon immortality
+for the homeland's glory
+just a few centuries ago
+
+Red flag and sickle brought down a throne
+when planes first battled and droned
+world wars twice a century
+during the first half
+the Cold War ended
+just over a decade ago
+
+We're not getting closer
+even as we get older
+resorted to arms
+negotiations crumbled
+talk in shambles
+just a few years ago
+
+News still blaring strife and scandal
+weight of troubles for the willing and able
+to cleanse this world of ailments
+do we seek the new fangled or ancient ?
+we're still searching
+just a few days ago
+
+Neighbourhood bustles with communal fussing
+jobs, relations, children, gossip and bragging
+folks I know and don't chattering
+I have the alcohol's fire in my veins
+from the drinks I had
+just a few hours ago
+
+My thoughts flip back to friends I had
+times of delight and mirth made me glad
+then commitments led us away
+catch up with you soon
+I was in the past
+just a minute ago
+8>)
+
+
+Passage Of His Reign :
+
+Supple youth gambols with fresh breeze.
+Fledgling seeds sprout first roots.
+First light flickers from the horizon.
+Winds  blow with a shrill.
+His reign is ascending.
+
+Seasoned vigour reads the seasons.
+Roots rush to claim its share of the earth.
+Torch of day hangs midway at meridian's hour.
+Winds howl deeply.
+His reign at its apex.
+
+What was once a peak is now a plain.
+The next crest yields a basin of troughs.
+Howling winds bewray cracks.
+
+Ripe form moves with care.
+Old roots are gnarled.
+Light of day  is a humble blend of glow and grey.
+Winds howl at slurred pace.
+His reign at its ebb.
+8>)
+
+
+No. 14 :
+
+He's been up and over the hill
+He's lost the horizon
+He can't see the end
+to his plateau limbo
+
+The parade of younger generations
+excite him they do not
+he knows the game
+the tools have long changed
+he a hapless victim
+of the course of regulations
+which write off able bodied people
+on set biological years
+not on account of physical decline
+
+He wastes away
+He's been up and over the hill
+Bereft of direction
+He's lost the horizon
+which guided previous phases of his life
+
+A man in retirement
+without lifelong passion
+outside the sphere of his career
+hastens his own decline
+He can't see the end
+to his plateau limbo
+8>)
+
+
+Worth Of Say :
+
+Everybody's worth of say
+heard in haunts you roam
+Someone else's worth of say
+overheard as you flit by
+It's not your worth of say
+while you stand, watch and wait
+You want your worth of say
+before pale flag's hoisted
+the towel thrown
+
+Everybody's worth of say
+in each twist of rhetoric
+Someone else's worth of say
+you cannot see your name
+It's not your worth of say
+you haven't spoken yet
+You want your worth of say
+before the heart's lost
+the daredevils retire
+
+Everybody's worth of say
+as you glean the scene
+Someone else's worth of say
+while you keep your peace
+It's not your worth of say
+when others speak their mind
+You want your worth of say
+before the flames flake
+the embers melt
+8>)
+
+
+Illustration Of Melancholy:
+
+'I saw your face , It was clouded by smoke
+I grasped the smoke, and inhaled despair
+Was I too late ? Am I just in time
+for one last remorse
+and to scream myself hoarse
+robbed of the thrill of a dare
+The wheels turn with a broken spoke '
+8>)
+
+
+For A Friend's Recovery :
+
+My heart leaps at your recovery
+Peaks and troughs you did scale
+Ease towards hearty and hale
+Soon you'll return to normalcy
+8>)
+
+
+Progeny :
+
+Flesh of one's flesh
+Blood of one's blood
+nature and learning mesh
+where two create a third
+8>)
+
+
+I'm Leaving :
+
+Goodbye there's a pensive stillness
+A short while to reflect the jolt
+There's a blithe smile of carelessness
+A short pause to fasten the bolt
+8>)
+
+
+Action Required :
+
+Thoughts that lodge in me
+should I bolt them and forget ?
+should I say them and release ?
+this quandary baits me
+with a jerk of regret
+
+Questions play within me
+should I price their logic ?
+should I leave them be ?
+this quandary baits me
+with care I am to pick
+
+Resolve swells in me
+I should heed apprehension !
+I should calm uncertainty !
+the last stroke awaits me
+with an expectation
+8>)
+
+
+Little One's Hope :
+
+Your tiny feet stumble and knees buckle
+yet you walk with outstretched arms
+Your hands grapple at awkward angles
+yet you come with curious arms
+Child of hope and child of trust
+Shape your future with our past
+8>)
+
+
+A Toast To Thee :
+
+though the distance for miles swell
+much from Fortune we can't tell
+savour rewards and joys we had
+while sweat and toil made us prepared
+your quests ahead, I wish you well
+8>)
+
+
+Whimsical Verse :
+
+There was a lady of wavy long tresses
+who pined for short locks of hair
+so to her wish she one day addresses
+and was delighted by a sight so fair!
+8>)
+
+
+A weave of thanks :
+
+'twas inspired by inspiration
+I thank thee for thy plaudit
+where reason and words meet
+'tis to me a joyous notion
+with words Bards shape and weave
+while from the Muses they receive !
+8>)
+
+
+Quatrain For Friends :
+
+In friendship and in sport
+Trust and faith scaled the fort
+In light jest and with truth
+Hands clasp with regard true
+8>)
+
+
+The World Turns :
+
+for as long as the world turns
+there'll be cause to go on
+along its twists and turns
+from night to new morn
+sparks alight where fire burns
+warm embraces and cold spurns
+events that press us upon
+when cause and effect churns
+while hopes and chances spawn
+sadness and joy have their turns
+there'll be cause to go on
+for as long as the world turns
+8>)
+
+
+Pricey Temptation :
+
+Sell us your finest finery
+To cheer up lively livery
+the earthly passing passions
+tempt with comely compulsions
+8>)
+
+
+Your Move :
+
+where does your heart lie ?
+when it must be true ?
+the hard questions they pry
+and they are now due !
+
+to salvation where you're cleansed ?
+or reap damnation of recompense ?
+judge and make fateful choice
+foolish plunge or righteous poise !
+8>)
+
+
+Restless Reckless :
+
+Mesh of contradictions
+with likely predilections
+flirting with chance
+in a worldly prance
+
+Providence queried with questions varied
+in a rush hurried of temper unburied
+
+Toasts to eventuality
+with a toss of probability
+come fame or infamy
+taunts decreed mortality
+8>)
+
+
+Three Thoughts at Three Paces :
+
+1
+For what is a lavish bauble
+but sight to behold and marvel ?
+It cares not how you fare
+merely a trinket to compare ?
+
+2
+Mock not the spartan or ornate
+swiftly in haste or in debate
+With stealth change alters priorities
+makes necessary, luxuries
+makes luxuries, necessities
+A restless evolving state
+fills or wipes a slate
+
+3
+Spare traders of things necessary
+for their lack of tasteful grace
+Their use and place have longevity
+with wares to ease passing days
+8>)
+
+
+Some Questions(while Hope still waits) :
+1
+Will sworn foes swear anew
+be seated on common pew ?
+though far easier to renounce strangers
+bad blood among same blood breeds dangers
+
+2
+Will sworn foes swear anew
+be seated on common pew ?
+or will peace be only enforced
+when each choose a separate course ?
+
+3
+Will sworn foes swear anew
+be seated on common pew ?
+or must ill churn till last breath
+with no certainty but death ?
+
+4
+By own accord, jettison pride
+Courage on a limb, bare one's hide
+If sincerity resides on each side...
+
+5
+Will sworn foes swear anew
+be seated on common pew ?
+if oaths can be retaken
+can they embrace as brethren ?
+8>)
+
+
+Passing Days :
+
+Cry for joy and sorrow
+Yet lay hope for morrow
+Lift that blanket over you
+Till grass is wet with dew
+Lift your head to a new morn
+you'll be long way from forlorn
+greet sunrise with relish
+bid sunset with a wish
+8>)
+
+
+A Year Of Changes :
+
+A year of welcomes and partings
+short jaunts and long meanderings
+of prosaic and verse wanderings
+sustained efforts and constant dartings
+
+A year of comings and goings
+sure-footed steps and trippings
+swift stirrings and quiet mullings
+along known paths and new turnings
+8>)
+
+
+Another Round(for my friends) :
+
+Wishing you joys plenty and setbacks few
+Like the seasonal changes right on cue
+Friendship true cloys not but breathes anew
+Bursting with good faith and goodness due
+8>)
+
+
+Eight Lines :
+
+Things said are said fully
+Deeds done are done truly
+There shan't be lies to grieve
+If truth is like a sieve
+
+When wits are matched
+Our minds are lighted
+When sins are hatched
+Our joys are blighted
+8>)
+
+
+Dose Of Happiness :
+
+Feast on meals healthy and hearty
+moods brightened by fair company
+amidst weather fine and agreeable
+chosen activities are feasible
+with pleasant and peaceful repose
+awashed with life's joyful dose
+8>)
+
+
+Under The Influence :
+
+Resolute we are to mark treasures
+with length and breadth of finite measures
+as if their expanse explains indulgence
+where passion and devotion fuse at confluence
+8>)
+
+
+Grant Me A Moment :
+
+Grant me a moment its tarrying worth
+so I may savour my own lingering
+that later at length I could with mirth
+dub it a spell apt for remembering
+8>)
+
+
+The Best Seat :
+
+Seated amongst fondest of friends
+I took my place with much relish
+there's truth that happiness depends
+on presence of those we cherish
+8>)
+
+
+Simple Worship :
+
+Elaborate rituals and traditions serve to lengthen the divide between
+what believers wish to state and supposed obligations that come with
+prayers.More often than not, such rituals are man-made rules meant to
+lend mystical, mysterious air to worship. In fact how we worship is as
+bare knuckles as simple sincerity.
+
+Rituals and traditions do not enhance spiritual health of the
+faithful.They prolong the physical manifestation of worshipping taken
+to (at times)zealous and elitist degree. It bewilders those who
+approach religion with the aim of simple worship and sincere
+intimations.
+The imposition of man-made strictures and selfish interpretations
+magnifies the measure of spiritual desolation and logical confusion
+when welcome and solace are sought.
+
+It is hurtful and spiritually repulsive to have a monk, priest or
+medium severely chastise a worshipper for menial violations, made out
+of ignorance, for the common people are not as well schooled in
+so-called religious conventions. It is their duty to guide and courtesy
+to instruct. No believer and worshipper comes with willful intent to
+cause sacrilege. That goes against the purpose and effort of one's
+presence. Again, it is caused by the imposition of rituals and ceremony
+which causes the divide.
+
+A believer comes, settles in a prayerful pose and speaks one's heart,
+spills worries, mentions cares and wishes hopes for the numerous
+tomorrows ahead. It is a simple affirmation of faith and a private
+conversation with the Maker. What transpires in every session is a
+mutual secret between believer and Divine. A simple act that can be
+replicated at home in the confines of the room.
+8>)
+
+
+Savage Civilization :
+
+Known civilization was once overrun by wild tribes. Humanity once again
+threatens itself; by overrunning itself from within. When decency
+becomes an underground outlawed movement, if civilization glorifies its
+own demise and luxuriates in the stream of crumbling plaster and
+concrete, that is when the very term 'civilization' becomes a
+meaningless warble of groans.
+
+Before this desperate nightmare transmutes into hopeless reality, we
+need to pinch ourselves and come to our senses by putting our chaotic
+house in order. We are our own worst enemy and our likeliest saviour.
+8>)
+
+
+Raindrops :
+
+Those who plan to go on foot bide time till lashing water slackens its
+vehemence upon the earth. Overfed sod forms mud puddles. Drenched
+concrete turn shades darker.
+Windows and screens are glazed with hazy film. Droplets streak randomly
+along crooked paths, from the steepest incline to the base. Trails of
+clear watery streaks slice through round and oval drops , speedily and
+decisively, like drunken comets.
+8>)
+
+
+Circumstantial Standpoint :
+
+It's nothing but circumstances between us. Circumstances determine who
+orders the charge and who charges, who lords over all and who the
+servants are, who rests atop pedestals and who shoulder their weight,
+who stands on the rostrum and who stand on the plains.
+
+Mere circumstances divide us. They determine who bears the moral
+responsibility, who does or refrain from the deed, those who are garbed
+and crowned with honour , those besmirched with infamy.
+
+It's nothing but circumstances between us. Their plot is such that
+there are those who are heralds, those who are heralded and those who
+are unheralded masses. Mere circumstances stretch and fill
+possibilities within the circumstantial spectrum.
+8>)
+
+
+Just Passing By :
+
+Questions and reality of mortality meet us head on. They are
+inescapable in this mortal sphere. With each experience we grow towards
+maturity and acceptance of the frailties of the flesh in Life's autumn.
+Mortality steps on our plate. It comes with mounting frequency. Rising
+generations. Receding elders. They meet , then one of them become
+recollection.
+8>)
+
+
+Workers Of The Land :
+
+Let's turn our plaudits from urbane beings to workers of the land. Ever
+so often overlooked in this age of metropolis. Their handiwork beget
+sustenance which we require to sustain life and maintain our well being.
+The country's produce douses bothers of hunger, satiates palates. Their
+bread and butter , our bread and butter.
+Workers of the land, at times contemned, dismissed as simpletons. Give
+them their due. Short change them not with regard. The earth had been
+generous to them when our tongues were miserly. Workers of the land,
+nurtured by the earth and they nurture the earth in return for its
+gifts.
+8>)
+
+
+Rest :
+
+Sleep is relief between exertions and effort we demand from ourselves.
+Much as we crave to eject all stops , the flesh craves due rest. The
+sword misses its scabbard. It returns to its housing when warlike
+vigilance is out of place. Take rest when your being needs its
+nourishment. Resume your affairs when refreshed. Thoughts dart. Senses
+sharpened. Limbs have their nimbleness returned. Go fly into the arena.
+Spend strength inside. When weariness gives the cue, come right back to
+the lull of repose.
+8>)
+
+
+Good Times :
+
+The time we had. Life's delights shared. Repartees. Jousting with and
+jocular bandying. They take stage and fill gaps during bouts of
+excruciating inactivity. Scene, scents and discerned details. Moments
+of climax. Instances at the apex of tension which left all ahanging on
+every second of charged anticipation relieved by laughter when the
+punch line was delivered. Unexpected turns, surprise when it caught us
+at the tender flank, we were stupefied. Then senses roused us to cheer
+the deftness of the deed.
+8>)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+        
+            *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RHYME AND REASON VOLUME TWO ***
+        
+
+    
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
+be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
+law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
+so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
+States without permission and without paying copyright
+royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
+of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
+Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
+concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
+and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
+the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
+of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
+copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
+easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
+of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
+Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
+do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
+by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
+license, especially commercial redistribution.
+
+
+START: FULL LICENSE
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
+Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
+Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at
+www.gutenberg.org/license.
+
+Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
+electronic works
+
+1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
+destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your
+possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
+Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
+by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
+or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
+paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
+agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™
+electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
+Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
+of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual
+works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
+States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
+United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
+claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
+displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
+all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
+that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting
+free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™
+works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
+Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily
+comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
+same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when
+you share it without charge with others.
+This particular work is one of the few individual works protected
+by copyright law in the United States and most of the remainder of the
+world, included in the Project Gutenberg collection with the
+permission of the copyright holder. Information on the copyright owner
+for this particular work and the terms of use imposed by the copyright
+holder on this work are set forth at the beginning of this work.
+
+
+1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
+in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
+check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
+agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
+distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
+other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no
+representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
+country other than the United States.
+
+1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
+immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear
+prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work
+on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
+phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
+performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
+
+    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+    other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+    whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+    of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+    at www.gutenberg.org. If you
+    are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
+    of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
+  
+1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is
+derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
+contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
+copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
+the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
+redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
+Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
+either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
+obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™
+trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
+additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
+will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works
+posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
+beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™.
+
+1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg™ License.
+
+1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
+any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
+to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format
+other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
+version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website
+(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
+to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
+of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
+Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
+full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
+provided that:
+
+    • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+        the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method
+        you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
+        to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has
+        agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
+        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
+        within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
+        legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
+        payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
+        Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
+        Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
+        Literary Archive Foundation.”
+    
+    • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+        you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+        does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
+        License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
+        copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
+        all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
+        works.
+    
+    • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
+        any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+        electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
+        receipt of the work.
+    
+    • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+        distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
+    
+
+1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
+Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
+are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
+from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
+the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
+forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
+Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
+electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
+contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
+or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
+intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
+other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
+cannot be read by your equipment.
+
+1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
+of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
+with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
+with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
+lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
+or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
+opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
+the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
+without further opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
+OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
+LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
+damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
+violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
+agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
+limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
+unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
+remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
+accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
+production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
+electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
+including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
+the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
+or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or
+additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
+Defect you cause.
+
+Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™
+
+Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
+computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
+exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
+from people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future
+generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
+Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
+
+Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
+U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
+
+The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,
+Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up
+to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
+and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
+
+Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
+public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
+DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
+visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
+donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.
+
+Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
+Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be
+freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
+distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of
+volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
+the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
+necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
+edition.
+
+Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
+facility: www.gutenberg.org.
+
+This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+

PG6035_text.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,1931 @@
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+This Etext is for private use only. No republication for profit in
+print or other media may be made without the express consent of the
+Copyright Holder. The Copyright Holder is especially concerned about
+performance rights in any media on stage, cinema, or television, or
+audio or any other media, including readings for which an entrance fee
+or the like is charged. Permissions should be addressed to: Frank
+Morlock, 6006 Greenbelt Rd, #312, Greenbelt, MD 20770, USA or
+frankmorlock@msn.com. Other works by this author may be found at
+http://www.cadytech.com/dumas/personnage.asp?key=130
+
+
+
+
+
+                        THE TRIPLE MARRIAGE
+
+                                 BY
+
+                             DESTOUCHES
+
+                       Translated and Adapted
+
+                        By Frank J. Morlock
+                               C 1982
+
+
+
+CHARACTERS:
+
+Mr. Matthews, an old man
+Elizabeth, his daughter
+Walter, his son
+Mr. Manly, Elizabeth's husband
+Anna, Elizabeth's maid
+The Countess
+Polly, Walter's wife
+Sophie, Matthew's wife
+Trim, Walter's valet
+Jeremy, Manly's valet
+Belinda, a little girl about ten years of age
+Mr. Nugent
+A troop of dancers
+
+
+
+Scene: A room in Matthews' house.
+
+
+Matthews
+No, I cannot be perfectly happy. I had a wife and she died. Out of
+decency, I mourned her. Secretly, I rejoiced to be delivered from a
+tyrant who controlled my slightest breath and wanted to rule my
+inclinations after twenty years of marriage. I thought her death would
+leave me free.-- Now, I am a slave to my children, who force me to go
+against my own wishes, and to preserve decency, without which I dare
+not proceed. I have to be careful my affairs are not noised about all
+over town. I have a son who is bigger than I am: what a mortification
+for a father who doesn't wish to renounce the world! I have a sweet
+and pretty daughter--who doesn't want to be a nun. So, to preserve
+decency, I have to marry her off. What an aggravating necessity for a
+father who loves his own comfort more than his daughter! What role
+should I play?-- For the time being better keep them amused, so as to
+have time to arrange matters in the way I wish.
+
+(Enter Anna.)
+
+Anna
+What's going on, sir? I've just seen I don't know how many men down
+there getting drunk. What guzzlers! They've already emptied more than
+thirty bottles, and they complain they are dying of thirst. Who are
+they?
+
+Matthews
+They're dancers and musicians.
+
+Anna
+They drink like marines.
+
+Matthews
+Well, aren't they doing their job?
+
+Anna
+Only when they drink at somebody else's expense. I ought to watch
+them. But, sir, if you please, why have you brought this bacchanalia
+into your home? Are you giving a ball tonight?
+
+Matthews
+Yes, child, I intend to give a kind of ball tonight, or rather a
+little concert mixed with dancing. That's what I brought these
+musicians and dancers for.
+
+Anna
+Better take away the drink then, for if they continue as they've
+begun, you will have to carry them home.
+
+Matthews
+Never mind, don't worry about it--the more they drink, the better they
+sound.
+
+Anna
+Well done! And how were you able to bring yourself to have such a
+party--you, a sworn enemy to such diversions?
+
+Matthews
+I have reasons for it which everyone will learn before long. Besides,
+as my daughter is a little bored, I thought a little diversion like
+this would cheer her up.
+
+Anna
+It's true that music and dancing are pleasant, but I don't think this
+is exactly what your daughter needs to get her health back.
+
+Matthews
+Oh, I see where you're coming from. You mean she needs a husband!
+
+Anna
+Without a doubt. A husband is a sort of prescription medicine for a
+languishing daughter.
+
+Matthews
+I know my daughter: she's very virtuous.
+
+Anna
+Does it mean you can't want a husband because you're virtuous? On the
+contrary, it's her virtue which makes an honest girl want a husband.
+Those who are not so scrupulous have an easier time of it. I am going
+to prove that to you.
+
+Matthews
+I don't need your proofs.
+
+Anna
+Suppose, for example, you had walked a long, hot road in the summer
+heat.
+
+Matthews
+Well?
+
+Anna
+And that you were expressly forbidden to drink until you arrived at a
+resting place where they were waiting for you with agreeable
+refreshments.
+
+Matthews
+What an idea!
+
+Anna
+If you weren't forbidden, wouldn't you stop at an inn on the way? You
+wouldn't be in such a hurry to get there if you hadn't scrupulously
+observed the rule against drinking.
+
+Matthews
+I'll agree to that.
+
+Anna
+That's the exact picture of a young, emancipated woman. Elizabeth, on
+the other hand, is a traveler who observes the rules with such a
+scrupulous exactitude that she's reduced to the last extremity. Sir,
+remember, one cannot always withstand thirst, so it's unwise to put a
+young girl in the need of refreshing herself along the way by
+extending the journey.
+
+Matthews
+You're wasting your breath, I don't believe that eagerness to get it
+has caused Elizabeth's sickness.
+
+Anna
+Now, the doctors have lost their Latin for it, or rather, it's a
+miracle that despite their remedies she's still alive in such a
+perilous state.-- I am not going to stop! She sighs night and day; she
+cries often; she falls in a languor--in a prostration which makes one
+fear for her life. Damn, sir, I know what I'm talking about. These are
+symptoms of an illness caused by love.
+
+Matthews
+You think she has some inclination in her heart?
+
+Anna
+I have not a doubt of it.
+
+Matthews
+Come on, come on, that cannot be. I am sure she herself doesn't know
+what an inclination is.
+
+Anna
+Ignorant at twenty-five in an age when girls are so precocious!
+Really, you cannot be so blind.
+
+Matthews
+I forbid you to say a word of this to her. You'll make her have ideas
+she doesn't have.
+
+Anna
+Oh, I wager she has an imagination more vivid than mine.
+
+Matthews
+I am going to plan this evening's party.
+
+(Exit Matthews.)
+
+Anna
+Useless for him to dissemble; my speech exposed him, but I dare not
+yet hope--
+
+(Enter Elizabeth.)
+
+Elizabeth
+Has my father gone? What did you tell him?
+
+Anna
+We spoke about your illness. We both rejoiced over your improvement.
+
+Elizabeth
+That was all?
+
+Anna
+You want to know if he spoke about your getting married?
+
+Elizabeth
+Shouldn't I think of it?
+
+Anna
+True, you're still a girl--and when one remains a virgin so long, one
+runs the risk of remaining one forever. I've offered your father some
+pretty thoughts on the matter.
+
+Elizabeth
+Did he seem to you more favorably disposed to my wishes?
+
+Anna
+Not at all. He believes you're still a child, and that you can no more
+think of marriage than your sister Belinda.
+
+Elizabeth
+My mother warned me that if she died first, I would run the risk of
+not being married for a long time.
+
+Anna
+We indeed see the fulfillment of her prophecy. Death--miss! We must
+make an effort.
+
+Elizabeth
+What do you think I should do?
+
+Anna
+Tell your father how you feel. Tell him outright that he is stupidly
+deceived in the opinion he has of you--and that you're too much of a
+woman to remain a virgin much longer.
+
+Elizabeth
+I would never have the courage to tell him such a thing.
+
+Anna
+Then you must have the courage NOT to marry, and to wait patiently for
+the old man to die.
+
+Elizabeth
+I've made up my mind about that.
+
+Anna
+You could do something to help yourself, but you will never have the
+courage to do it.
+
+Elizabeth
+What could I do?
+
+Anna
+Cast your spell over some honest man, agree together, and marry
+secretly.
+
+Elizabeth
+You give me advice like that?
+
+Anna
+My word, Miss, one has to help save your life. When a father pays no
+attention to your needs--it is permitted to take care of oneself, if
+one can do it honorably. Don't waste your time pretending, I am sure
+you love Manly.
+
+Elizabeth
+I would have a lot to tell you if I were sure of your discretion.
+
+Anna
+I'm a woman, but I can keep a secret. And, if you doubt it, I don't
+want to know anything.
+
+Elizabeth
+After all the proofs you've given me of your affection, I am sure you
+wouldn't want me to be lost--and lost I will be, if you tell anyone
+what I am about to confide in you.
+
+Anna
+I swear to you that your interests are more dear to me than my own.
+
+Elizabeth
+First of all, I swear to you that I love Manly with all my heart.
+
+Anna
+I never doubted that for a minute.
+
+Elizabeth
+And, I have promised to love him all my life.
+
+Anna
+You shouldn't make such a promise; a girl should never pin herself
+down like that.
+
+Elizabeth (puzzled)
+Why?
+
+Anna
+Because a hundred to one, she will be unable to keep her word.
+
+Elizabeth
+I will keep mine with Manly.
+
+Anna (maliciously)
+You don't intend to marry him then?
+
+Elizabeth
+To the contrary, I've promised never to marry anyone else.
+
+Anna
+My word, Miss, love and marriage have been divorced for a long time
+and have sworn never to live together. I hold their oaths are more
+likely to be kept than yours.
+
+Elizabeth
+Stop joking; Manly and I have found a way to keep in touch.
+
+Anna
+I wish it. Is that all you have to tell me?
+
+Elizabeth
+I tremble to tell you the rest.
+
+Anna
+Oh! Oh! I'm afraid you've quenched your thirst en route.
+
+Elizabeth
+What do you meant by that?
+
+Anna
+You know what I mean by it.-- Continue!
+
+Elizabeth
+As Manly is my equal in birth, and besides has a considerable fortune,
+we agreed that one of his friends should go to my father without
+naming Manly as the person in question, to find out if my father would
+be willing to give me in marriage to a person who is perfectly suited
+to me.
+
+Anna
+Good.
+
+Elizabeth
+I cannot tell you how coldly he was received. In a word, my father
+absolutely refused everybody who was named.
+
+Anna
+Death! There's a father who deserves a daughter who will marry
+herself.
+
+Elizabeth
+Would you do such a thing?
+
+Anna
+Me? Ten times!
+
+Elizabeth
+Well, my poor Anna, I have already taken your advice. We've already
+secretly married-- My aunt witnessed it at her house, where I am able
+to meet Manly. Unfortunately, my happiness won't last long. My father
+is alarmed at the frequent visits I make to my aunt. He has ordered me
+not to go there and has forbidden Manly to come here. I am in despair
+and my fret has throne me into a sickness I think I'll die of.
+
+Anna
+I am delighted to know all this-- And I want to help you-- But what do
+I see?
+
+(Enter Manly and Jeremy dressed as dancers.)
+
+Jeremy
+Come, sir, courage, we must kiss the hands of those two young ladies.
+
+Manly
+Shut up, you rogue, and think of showing some respect.
+
+Jeremy
+My word, I'm a little drunk. Drinking and respectfulness do not keep
+the same company.
+
+Manly
+I fear this bibbler will ruin my plans. What a misfortune to have need
+of you.
+
+Elizabeth
+Anna, who are these people?
+
+Anna
+They are two of the dancers your father has brought. They are dressed
+to amuse, apparently.
+
+Jeremy
+Yes, my ladies, we come to give you a little moment of sport.
+
+Anna
+I know that mug!
+
+Jeremy
+Mug! Oh! Mug yourself!
+
+Manly (to Jeremy)
+Will you shut up?
+
+Elizabeth
+What do I hear? It's Manly's voice-- It's Manly that I see. Ah,
+Heaven!
+
+Manly
+Don't be frightened, Elizabeth. Yes, it is Manly who presents himself
+to you, and who cuts through insurmountable obstacles to obtain the
+pleasure of seeing you.
+
+Elizabeth
+You couldn't surprise me more agreeably. My joy is so great that I can
+hardly speak. But my happiness is cruelly crossed by the fact that my
+father will discover you.
+
+Manly
+I beg you not to worry; this disguise hides me from his eyes so
+effectively that he has no idea I am here--besides, he's seen me too
+infrequently to spot me in this get-up.
+
+Elizabeth
+And how did you get in?
+
+Manly
+I sent the dancers and musicians to your home and paid them some money
+to introduce me as one of their comrades. I thought it was wise that
+Jeremy play a role, too. Jeremy doesn't dance badly, and I only do
+passably well--and we ought to appear indistinguishable in the little
+divertissement that is being prepared.
+
+Anna
+And, how can Jeremy help you? He is so drunk that he doesn't know
+what's going on.
+
+Jeremy
+Don't worry, I'm never better than when I'm drunk. On my oath, I was
+born to be a musician.
+
+Anna
+It would seem so. You're well adapted to your part.
+
+Elizabeth
+This man will infallibly give you away.
+
+Jeremy
+Eh! What a thing to say! Don't I know that your father is a brute who
+refuses to see my master--and that my master has a passion that forces
+him to see you despite your father. Therefore, for that reason, it
+follows--that my master must see you without your father seeing him.
+And me, like a discreet confidant,--it follows that I must see you
+both while seeing nothing. Go, children, profit by the opportunity.
+Two make a party. Have a nice time together while I amuse myself with
+this hussy.
+
+Elizabeth
+Your valet makes me terribly nervous.
+
+Manly
+Rogue! If you give me away, I will give you a hell of a beating when
+we are outside-- I cannot live without seeing you, my dear Elizabeth.
+
+Jeremy
+Nor I, without kissing you, my dear Anna.
+
+Manly
+I will enjoy the happiness heaven grants me now, knowing the perfect
+felicity will be followed by a long period of sighing. But don't make
+me worry for your life, that is the bounty that I beg on my knees.
+
+Elizabeth
+Yes, I promise you, I'll be all right. Manly, get up--if you are
+caught in that position all will be lost.
+
+Manly
+No--I won't get up until you swear to me.
+
+Anna
+Peace! I hear someone.
+
+(Enter Belinda, about ten years old.)
+
+Belinda
+Ah, ah, my sister, I caught you at it. A man at your feet. It's very
+cute--really, ha, ha, ha.
+
+Elizabeth
+Oh, I am in despair. She will tell everything to my father.
+
+Jeremy
+Plague on the little critter.
+
+Anna
+What do you want here, Miss?
+
+Belinda
+You don't think of me. You each have one of your own, but you leave me
+without one.
+
+Elizabeth
+What are you getting at, little scatterbrain?
+
+Belinda
+Hey, yes, yes, little scatterbrain. This gentleman here didn't whisper
+sweet nothings in your ear--and this one didn't kiss Anna? Mere
+tricks!
+
+Jeremy
+What do you want, little girl? If I understand you, I will give you a
+spanking.
+
+Belinda
+A spanking. Ah, ah--listen.
+
+Jeremy
+Yes, a spanking. Come one, bring me a switch right away.
+
+Belinda
+Look at this drunk who wants to give me a whipping.
+
+Jeremy
+Drunk! This little minx is too smart to live.
+
+Anna
+Listen, little girl! Don't go telling stupid stories. It's your father
+himself who invited these gentlemen.
+
+Belinda
+I am well aware he invited them. But to dance, not make love.
+
+Elizabeth
+What? You have the impudence--
+
+Belinda
+Come on, come on. I already know about THINGS. To be languorous, to
+throw himself at your feet, to kiss your hands tenderly, to cast dying
+looks--they call that making love--and I know perfectly well.
+
+Manly
+This little creature is very dangerous!
+
+Belinda
+I also caught my father doing the same thing this morning.
+
+Anna
+Your father?
+
+Belinda
+Yes, indeed. He was decked out like a young man. I didn't say anything
+to him about it, but I watched him carefully.-- When I'm big, I will
+remind him of it if he should try to prevent me from taking a lover.
+
+Anna
+Here's the most naughty little pest I've ever known.
+
+Belinda
+You're really irritated, aren't you, at what I've found out--for I can
+make you furious and revenge myself on my sister who treats me like a
+child, and who wants to be married before me.
+
+Elizabeth
+Well, you can get married first. Don't say anything.
+
+Belinda
+Good! I will marry first. You have the patience to wait till then?
+Come, come, sister, marry this gentleman quickly--then they will soon
+give me a chance to choose one for myself.
+
+Elizabeth
+Didn't I tell you that this gentleman is a dancer, and that I don't
+find him attractive?
+
+Belinda
+Hey, yes! A dancer! What a dancer!
+
+Anna
+Certainly.
+
+Belinda
+It's no use for him to hide behind his mask.
+
+Elizabeth
+Go on, you're crazy.
+
+Belinda
+Hey, no. I didn't see him down there drinking with the musicians; I
+didn't listen to him when he wasn't aware of it. He told them he'd
+give them plenty of money if they would pretend he was one of them--
+that he would be so upset, so upset, if my father saw him. Oh, if he's
+so afraid of my father, then he must be your lover--for my father
+doesn't want you to have any lovers. He's very wrong, because I think
+this is very amusing.
+
+Elizabeth
+How miserable I am!
+
+Belinda
+Go, go, fear nothing, sister, put your affairs in repose. I will
+prevent papa from coming here when he gets back--but, on the condition
+that you will help me when I get big.
+
+Elizabeth
+I swear it.
+
+Anna
+Me, too.
+
+(Exit Belinda.)
+
+Anna
+That little girl promises much. A ten year old to discover a secret
+intrigue!
+
+Elizabeth
+I swear to you that I'm terribly nervous and I believe that although
+you just got here, it would be better for you to leave.
+
+Anna
+And I, for one, think it isn't necessary. Count on Belinda saying
+nothing. Wait till she gets married. What a talent for pacifying a
+jealous husband. The man will be lost--for husbands in this country
+are the nicest in the world and it doesn't take much skill to trap
+them.
+
+Elizabeth
+Anna, really!--it would be better if you kept your mind on how to help
+us, instead of giving vent to such silly ideas!
+
+Anna
+As you like. I am going to tell that precocious little girl not to say
+a word to your father.
+
+Elizabeth
+I will be very much obliged to you.
+
+Anna
+On my word, here he is himself.
+
+Elizabeth
+Oh, we are discovered.
+
+Jeremy
+Watch yourselves carefully.
+
+(Enter Mr. Matthews.)
+
+Matthews
+Good day, my dear, how are you feeling?
+
+Elizabeth
+Not very ill today, papa.
+
+Anna
+I wager it was Miss Belinda who sent you here.
+
+Matthews
+Oh no, she didn't want me to come. She told me Elizabeth had left with
+you to take a walk in the Park.
+
+Anna
+That is what we spoke of doing in front of her, but Miss Elizabeth
+changed her mind because she is a little indisposed--and because she
+really loves dancing. I brought these gentlemen here while waiting for
+your little show.
+
+Matthews
+You did very well.
+
+Anna
+They are dressed to play a very exciting part.
+
+Matthews
+They both look good.
+
+Jeremy
+Sir, in all modesty, we are very light on our feet. (falling drunkenly
+on Matthews)
+
+Matthews
+Not so light, it would seem.
+
+Anna
+They are so drunk, both of them, that they haven't the strength to
+dance two steps. I told you exactly what would happen.
+
+Jeremy
+Frankly, Mr. Matthews, you really have the finest wine to be had in
+London, and if I weren't as sober as I am, I would be of half a mind
+to take good care of it.
+
+Matthews
+It seems to me, you haven't been too thrifty with it.
+
+Jeremy
+The better to amuse you. Wine gives me a strength, a suppleness. Would
+you like to dance a little entrée with me, Mr. Matthews?
+
+Matthews
+No, no, my boy, you will do better to go sleep and wait till
+everybody's come.
+
+Jeremy
+You are a man of good counsel. Agreed! To sleep.
+
+Matthews
+I believe this one is not so drunk as the other fellow, because he
+doesn't say a word.
+
+Jeremy
+He doesn't think the less. My master has a sad mind.
+
+Matthews
+What--his master?
+
+Jeremy
+Hey, yes, sure! I am only his assistant. Wait till you see him. He's
+the best fellow in the world, and if you wish he will demonstrate with
+your daughter.
+
+Matthews
+Do you feel like trying it with him?
+
+Elizabeth
+I wouldn't dare suggest it to you, papa, but if you wish it, it would
+give me the greatest pleasure in the world.
+
+Matthews
+I retained you to show my daughter. She already has had good
+instruction.
+
+Jeremy
+So much the better. My master always wishes to add to his scholars.
+
+Manly (pretending to be drunk)
+Don't worry. I will impart to her all my--hic--skills.
+
+Matthews
+As soon as you can, I beg you. I've just decided to marry her off--and
+I want her to dance at her wedding.
+
+Anna
+And, to whom are you planning to marry her, if you please?
+
+Matthews
+To one of my best friends--we were students together.
+
+Anna
+With one of your school mates! Really, you're joking.
+
+Matthews
+What! Didn't you just tell me a little while ago that she needs a
+husband?
+
+Anna
+Yes, sir. But believe me--but my word, will a man who was your school
+mate be capable of restoring her to health?
+
+Matthews
+Mr. Nugent offers to take her without a dowry. I like that idea. He's
+coming here immediately, and I had better get ready to see him.
+
+(Exit Matthews.)
+
+Jeremy
+Madame Nugent, I am your very humble servant.
+
+Manly
+Double crosser! Is now a time to joke?
+
+Elizabeth
+Ah, Manly, what will become of us?
+
+Elizabeth
+Anna, help us with your advice.
+
+Anna
+I'm as flabbergasted as you, and what has just been said makes me even
+more so.
+
+Elizabeth
+Ah, if only my brother Walter were here! He loves me and father really
+cares about him. We could confide our secret to him and he would be
+able to help us. But he's been in the country for the last eight days
+and we don't know when he'll be back.
+
+Jeremy
+My God, what a mess you're in. But, I've found a way to get you out of
+it.
+
+Manly
+What good can you do us in the state you're in?
+
+Jeremy
+Wine gives me wit.-- Silence, I am going to speak.
+
+Manly
+Let's see.
+
+Jeremy
+First of all, Miss Elizabeth must explain to her father, and do so
+with great discretion and charm: Dear father, you don't know what
+you're saying or doing.
+
+Anna
+Beautiful beginning.
+
+Jeremy
+And secondly, you must speak to this old scholar who wants to marry
+Miss Elizabeth.
+
+Manly
+Well, what do I tell him?
+
+Jeremy
+You will beg him very kindly (for I wish to be kind to everybody) to
+leave here as fast as he can, but on the condition that he never
+return.
+
+Manly
+Nice thing to say.
+
+Jeremy
+So much the better if things fall out so that you don't have to do
+anything.
+
+Manly
+What's so much the better?
+
+Jeremy
+Yes, indeed. We won't soon be defeated. Because if he refuses to leave
+by the door, we must throw him out the window.
+
+Manly
+Oh, shut up, stupid--leave us alone so we can consider.
+
+(Trim's voice: Tally-ho!)
+
+Anna
+I hear someone. It sounds like Trim.
+
+Elizabeth
+If it's Trim, my brother isn't far away.
+
+Anna
+Return to your room, Miss Elizabeth. You, gentlemen, go join your
+pretended comrades. I wish to sound out Trim and learn from him
+whether or not Walter has some inclination. In that case, you have
+common interests, and I plan to unite them to upset your father's
+plans.
+
+Elizabeth
+Good idea. We must let her try. Her efforts may be useful to us.
+
+Manly
+You can count on being rewarded in proportion to the degree your
+services prove useful to us.
+
+(Enter Trim, dressed for the hunt, with a hunting horn.)
+
+Trim
+Tally-ho! Tally-ho!
+
+Anna
+Eh! What's the reason for all this hunting noise? Have you lost your
+mind, my boy?
+
+Trim
+No, my dear. I am just as clever as usual. Is Mr. Matthews home?
+
+Anna
+No.
+
+Trim
+Are you positive?
+
+Anna
+Absolutely certain! He would be very angry at your making such a
+racket.
+
+Trim (walking about the stage)
+Tally-ho! Tally-ho!
+
+Anna
+Ah! You'll be the death of me! Stop it, and don't bore me anymore.
+What devilish music is that?
+
+Trim
+Do you believe that Mr. Matthews heard me?
+
+Anna
+Without a doubt, and all the neighbors, too. (Trim blasts his horn)
+But, what do I hear? More noise of the hunt. Are we in the time of the
+fairies, and have I been suddenly transported into a forest?
+
+Trim
+Ah, my dear, I would love to find you in the depths of a dark wood.
+
+Anna
+Why? To cut my throat?
+
+Trim
+No, child, you wouldn't die of it. (another blast on the horn)
+
+Anna
+Why keep it up? What do you mean to do?
+
+
+Trim
+My master is hunting in his father's antechamber.
+
+Anna
+Would you mind telling me what this means?
+
+Trim
+It means that we make a noise.
+
+Anna
+Does your master wish to insult his father? Are you dreaming? Are you
+possessed?
+
+Trim
+Oh, be patient, and you will learn everything.
+
+Anna
+Hurry up then! What's going on?
+
+Trim
+We are trying to make Mr. Matthews think we have returned from a big
+hunting party in the country. We have just brought two mules home
+laden with game.
+
+Anna
+Two mules! What poachers! Did you depopulate the entire countryside?
+
+Trim
+Indeed, yes. We haven't left anything in the meat shops.
+
+Anna
+What the deuce are you talking about?
+
+Trim
+We were not at Cliffordshire Manor as we wish to fool old man Matthews
+into believing. We've only been to a village half a league from
+London, and we haven't even killed a sparrow.
+
+Anna
+What were you doing there for eight days?
+
+Trim
+The plague! Beautiful business, but it is a secret that I am not
+permitted to divulge to you.
+
+Anna
+Why not?
+
+Trim
+Because, my master has forbidden me to speak of it, and that's why I'm
+dying from the desire to tell you the whole thing. Oh, the heavy
+weight of a secret! Well--here it is--my master-- Stop there, Trim,
+you are going to do something stupid.
+
+Anna
+You hide something from me,--from your mistress?
+
+Trim
+I agree: that's not in the rules. But, at the same time, I have a
+thought: my mistress is a woman. Would she be a woman if she were not
+a person incapable of keeping her mouth shut and under the compulsion
+to reveal the greatest secret within twenty-four hours or die?
+
+Anna
+Don't worry. I--I am stronger than a man about discretion. Speak or I
+will break with you.
+
+Trim
+You take me on my tender side. All right, I've got to tell you. The
+greatest men engage in madness for these little bitches.-- Nobody can
+hear us?
+
+Anna
+Not unless you speak loudly.
+
+Trim
+The devil! There are not childish games.
+
+Anna
+Well, then?
+
+Trim
+If someone discovers the mystery, my master will be disinherited--
+there it is, more or less.
+
+Anna
+The deuce!
+
+Trim
+And I, on the other hand, will inherit a beating. I don't like the
+idea of such a windfall.
+
+Anna
+You are only exciting my curiosity. Where have you been?
+
+Trim
+We were-- Shh! Here comes the old man. I've got to pacify him
+adroitly on this subject. Leave us--I will join you as soon as I can.
+
+(Exit Anna. Enter Matthews without seeing Trim.)
+
+Matthews
+To play me such a trick!
+
+Trim (aside)
+He seems to be in a rage.
+
+Matthews
+To try to put one over on me with such effrontery--a story like that.
+
+Trim
+Have we been found out?
+
+Matthews
+To have the audacity to say he came from Cliffordshire Manor.
+
+Trim
+The mine is blown.
+
+Matthews
+I wish to know if that devil Trim will also have the effrontery to
+pass this imposture off on me.
+
+Trim
+He knows everything.
+
+Matthews (seeing Trim)
+Please? Ah, you here. I'm very glad to find you, Mr. Scamp.
+
+Trim
+Good day, sir, how are you?
+
+Matthews
+That has nothing to do with your business.
+
+Trim
+Pardon, sir. The interest that I take in your precious health from the
+moment that I am separated from you, creates in my foreboding heart,
+sentiments of the most lively tenderness, and delivers it into the
+turmoil of the excess of both tender and passionate emotions. Now, you
+are well, and I rejoice over it.
+
+Matthews
+Double crosser! It's not a question of this gammon you are telling me.
+
+Trim
+Anything you please. What is it a question of?
+
+Matthews
+Tell me where my son has been for the last week!
+
+Trim
+Didn't he tell you?
+
+Matthews
+He told me that he was at Cliffordshire Manor.
+
+Trim
+Well, that's the truth.
+
+Matthews
+Didn't I predict you would tell me that?
+
+Trim
+Yes, I said so, and I will continue to say so. When I tell the truth,
+I fear nobody.
+
+Matthews
+I have to admire the effrontery of this gallows-bird.
+
+Trim (wishing to escape)
+Oh--if you're getting irritated.
+
+Matthews
+Stay put, or I'll brain you.
+
+Trim
+Is there something I can do to serve you? You have only to speak.
+
+Matthews
+And you, you have only two choices to make.
+
+Trim
+Let us see.
+
+Matthews
+Take two pounds or be pounded on the head twenty times.
+
+Trim
+Simple choice. I'll take the two pounds.
+
+Matthews (giving him money)
+Here they are.
+
+Trim
+Thank you, sir. I wish you a good day.
+
+Matthews (astounded)
+You're going somewhere?
+
+Trim
+Yes, indeed. Didn't I choose?
+
+Matthews
+And have you told me what I want to know?
+
+Trim
+What sir?
+
+Matthews
+Where did you spend the entire week? I know that it wasn't at
+Cliffordshire Manor. Clifford's aunt, the Countess, has come. She was
+staying with Clifford for two weeks, and she just told me that my son
+had not put in an appearance.
+
+Trim
+She wouldn't dare to say that to my face.
+
+Matthews
+That we'll see. She's still here.
+
+Trim
+Oh, if she's still here, I have nothing to say. I cannot tell a woman
+of her quality that she's crazy.
+
+Matthews
+You're trying to put me off the scent. But you won't succeed. I'm on
+my guard. Come on, tell the truth.
+
+Trim
+Oh, willingly! It's my character to tell the truth.
+
+Matthews
+You sanctimonious hypocrite!
+
+Trim
+So, to tell you exactly--
+
+Matthews
+The double crosser is going to lie! But, reckon, that will serve
+nothing. I know where you were.
+
+Trim
+If you know, why do you ask me?
+
+Matthews
+I want to hear it from your own mouth.
+
+Trim
+Oh, fie, sir! Where is honor, where is probity? I give the word of a
+gentleman. Admit to me that you know nothing if I keep silent.
+
+Matthews'
+If you keep silent, I will roast you.
+
+Trim
+They will be blows wasted. I have shoulders equal to any beating. I am
+of the race of sergeants and blows cannot frighten an illustrious
+member of my family.
+
+Matthews
+A singularly well-bred villain.
+
+Trim
+It is I who have an interest to make you admit that you are totally
+ignorant of where we have been.
+
+Matthews
+Why?
+
+Trim
+Because I am sensible of the honor. I want to be able to boast that
+you have caught me, and gained nothing from your money.
+
+Matthews
+Well, I admit that all I know is that you were not where you said.
+
+Trim
+You don't know any more than that?
+
+Matthews
+No, that's the truth.
+
+Trim
+So much the better! May the plague choke me if I tell you any more.
+
+Matthews
+You won't speak?
+
+Trim
+Here's your money. I have the right to keep my mouth shut.
+
+Matthews
+And, I have the right to brain you.
+
+Trim
+Strike. I will make you see that I have degenerated not one whit from
+the intrepidity of my forebears.
+
+Matthews
+His impudence leaves me helpless, and I know no more where I'm at than
+before. I order you to leave my house, and to never let me see you
+again.
+
+(Exit Matthews.)
+
+Trim
+My word, I've had to withstand a rude assault--but, I brought it off
+like a gentleman. Now, let's look for my master. I have to instruct
+him.-- Here he is in the nick of time.
+
+(Enter Walter.)
+
+Walter
+What's the matter with you, Trim?
+
+Trim
+Nothing. Just thinking about a terrible beating I almost got because
+of you.
+
+Walter
+Because of me! And who is the rogue who wished to beat you?
+
+Trim
+Your honored father.
+
+Walter
+I don't understand a word. Are you joking?
+
+Trim
+No, indeed. The Countess of Cliffordshire has just informed Mr.
+Matthews that we were nowhere near her nephew's estate.
+
+Walter
+Ah, the old fool. She has sworn to make me unhappy. It isn't the only
+evil she has done me.
+
+Trim
+I know she's the devil.
+
+Walter
+You know she's been in love with me for the last two years and she's
+mad for me to respond to her.
+
+Trim
+That's the truth! I've helped you deceive her a bit: you’ve had some
+narrow escapes.
+
+Walter
+Here, you see, she's coming to persecute me some more.
+
+Trim
+Leave her to me. I'll give her her walking papers.
+
+(Enter the Countess.)
+
+Countess
+Well, sir, you've finally decided to stop hoping for me.
+
+Walter
+Me, Madame? I have no intention of giving you any trouble.
+
+Trim
+He doesn't think you're the only one in the world.
+
+Countess
+I don't know about that! What's all this about your little hunting
+trip?
+
+Walter
+Madame, with your indulgence, I really don't have any story to tell
+you.
+
+Countess
+You don't owe me any explanation, little rogue! I can tell you better.
+You must tell me now where you've been for the last eight days. Are
+you pretending to me that you were with Clifford?---- I'm waiting,
+faithless one, and I flatter myself that love will draw it from you.
+
+Trim
+Madame, he prayed for love to lead him, but unfortunately, they lost
+their way and became separated.
+
+Countess
+Eh! You should have followed love, ingrate! How could you be in league
+together, when I wasn't there?
+
+Trim
+They didn't know their way, Madame. Or me either. Love is blind, I
+hear tell--and when one takes love for a guide, it's easy to get lost.
+
+Countess
+All this gallantry is useless. I want him to answer my questions
+himself.
+
+Walter
+It suits you, Madame, to reproach me--after all you have done to
+embroil me with my father. If my absence bothered you, you should have
+had an explanation with me--I would have explained everything. But,
+after the service you have just done me, I will tell you plainly, you
+will learn nothing.
+
+Countess
+I will learn nothing! You will explain to me or I will strangle you.
+
+Trim
+Let it go, Madame--he's a bullhead, and won't say a thing. I will
+respond to you; I will interpret his thoughts.
+
+Countess
+Well--speak, and I will recompense you in accordance with your
+sincerity.
+
+Trim
+You have a very tender feeling for him.
+
+Countess
+So much, you cannot imagine. I lose my wits, my poor Trim.
+
+Trim
+It's apparent. You want him to respond with a tenderness equal to your
+own.
+
+Countess
+Haven't I the right to expect it?
+
+Trim
+There are pros and cons to this business. He knows how you feel toward
+him. He's a very penetrating fellow. There it is, Madame, I wager a
+hundred pounds against you that he can never love you.
+
+Countess
+He can never love me, villain? I don't know what prevents me from
+scratching your eyes out.
+
+Trim
+Softly, if you please. It is not I who am insensible to your charms--
+on the contrary, I find them very--piquant--although they're not of
+the first edition.
+
+Countess
+He can never love me! (to Walter) Is he speaking the truth, perfidious
+wretch?
+
+Walter
+Madame, in truth--I am in confusion, if my heart were---- Trim,
+explain all this to Madame La Comtesse.
+
+Countess
+He can never love me!
+
+Trim
+No, Madame, but it's your fault, not his.
+
+Countess
+It's my fault--after all that I've done?
+
+Trim
+That's true. We don't disagree. But the fact is, you have such
+nobility in your looks, such majesty, and I don't know what that's
+grave and imposing--that it can only inspire him with esteem and
+respect. Love doesn't rub off from such venerable personages.
+
+Countess
+If my features inspire him with respect, my glances ought to inspire
+him with love.
+
+Trim
+That's where we disagree.
+
+Countess
+You cannot disagree.
+
+Walter
+Hold, Madame, I've great obligations to you; I am too gallant a man
+not to speak to you sincerely. Let me then disabuse you, and say to
+you, with all respect, that I owe you that.
+
+Countess
+Don't finish, you double crosser. I know where that little speech is
+going to end.
+
+Trim
+But, you are very wrong, Madame.
+
+Countess
+I am wrong, me! I am wrong! In what respect, if you please?
+
+Trim
+You're wrong to come into the world twenty years before he did. Why
+were you in such a hurry? If you loved him with so much tenderness,
+you ought to have planned ahead, and seen to it that he was born five
+or six years before you.
+
+Countess
+That depends on me?
+
+Trim
+No, Madame. But it doesn't depend on him to love you.
+
+Countess
+Then, why was it necessary to deceive me with false protestations?
+
+Trim
+They were not his.
+
+Countess
+And, whose then?
+
+Trim
+His father's who let it all happen. You offered to help him in his
+needs. The occasion was pressing. He saw a way to profit by your
+generosity. For recompense you wanted signs of love. The poor boy put
+himself to incredible expense in sighs and protestations. You treated
+it as a trifle, and he had no other coin to pay you in.
+
+Countess
+You say not a word to this, sir?
+
+Walter
+My word, Madame, he who makes no protest consents.
+
+Trim
+Would you like me to tell you a way to revenge yourself on him?
+
+Countess
+You would give me a great satisfaction, because I am beside myself.
+
+Trim
+And I, I who speak to you, I am in a rage against him. Let's stand a
+little further off.
+
+Walter
+What the devil's he going to say to her?
+
+Trim
+What are you looking for in a husband, Madame?"
+
+Countess
+A nice young man.
+
+Trim
+Well, I am your man. I will marry you, if you wish.
+
+Countess
+Get away from me, you wretch!
+
+Trim
+I will avenge you better than anyone else.
+
+Countess
+Get out, I tell you--I have a more sure way to punish this infidel.
+
+Trim
+That's what I'm afraid of.
+
+Walter
+And, what have I to fear?
+
+Countess
+Everything. I am going to marry you, in spite of yourself.
+
+Walter
+Marry me! Ah, Madame, you wouldn't be as cruel as that.
+
+Countess
+Yes, perjurer! I have just asked you from your father. I offered to
+take you without a penny. My proposition was agreeable and he accepted
+it, and that is enough for me. Goodbye, sir. Think about it. But, get
+it in your head that I am to be your wife. I have sworn it--it will
+be--and I am the one who tells you so,--and I am your very humble
+servant.
+
+(Exit Countess.)
+
+Trim
+She's woman enough to do just as she said--at the very least.
+
+Walter
+What a mess the crazy old fool has put me in.
+
+(Enter Elizabeth and Anna.)
+
+Elizabeth
+Oh, brother dear, I really need your help.
+
+Walter
+Oh, sis, I really need your help.
+
+Elizabeth
+My father has put me in despair.
+
+Walter
+My father wishes me to die of sorrow.
+
+Elizabeth
+Papa intends to marry me to Mr. Nugent.
+
+Walter
+He wants me to marry the old countess.
+
+Elizabeth
+I'll die if I do it.
+
+Walter
+I'll die if I don't resist him.
+
+Anna
+Here's a good beginning. Our fortunes are parallel--and don't they
+resemble each other in other respects?
+
+Walter
+Ah, Anna! My sister has less to complain of than I. She lacks the
+strength to resist--and she will end up living with a man she has the
+right to hate; but my fate is more cruel. For, I cannot follow
+father's orders or explain to him the reasons that prevent me from
+doing so.
+
+Anna
+We are in the same boat!
+
+Walter
+How can that be?
+
+Anna
+Explain yourself a little more and we will do the same.
+
+Elizabeth
+Brother--hide nothing from me, I beg you.
+
+Walter
+Ah, sister; I dare not speak. The slightest indiscretion and I am
+lost.
+
+Anna
+Same here. A single word is capable of ruining everything.
+
+Elizabeth
+Brother, do you believe I am capable of betraying you?
+
+Walter
+I can't conceal anything from you--Trim--tell her what has happened. I
+haven't the strength to do it myself.
+
+Trim
+Me, sir--reveal a secret! You take me for someone else.
+
+Walter
+All that I will admit--generally--is that I cannot marry from now on.
+
+Elizabeth
+Alas, brother, it is no longer permitted that you consent to the
+marriage proposed for me.
+
+Walter
+The hardness of my father has constrained me to certain measures which
+I am unable to take back.
+
+Elizabeth
+The same reason has put me under the necessity of consenting to
+engagements which can no longer be broken.
+
+Walter
+I am already married, sis.
+
+Elizabeth
+I am already married, brother.
+
+Walter
+Ah, heavens, who is your spouse?
+
+Elizabeth
+Manly.
+
+Walter
+Manly--I know him. He's one of my friends.
+
+Elizabeth
+And who is the wife you have taken?
+
+Walter
+Julia. Miss Prescott.
+
+Elizabeth
+I know her. She's a darling.
+
+Anna
+So, the confidence has taken place.
+
+Elizabeth
+What role do you play, brother?
+
+Walter
+That of exposing myself to everyone rather than break my marriage
+vows. And you, sis?
+
+Elizabeth
+To die, rather than break my word.
+
+Anna
+Here comes your father, with the Countess and Mr. Nugent.
+
+Walter
+I tremble.
+
+Elizabeth
+I can't any more.
+
+(Enter Matthews, The Countess, and Mr. Nugent.)
+
+Matthews
+Here they are--both of them. I am going to make them agree to the
+projects we've formed.
+
+Countess
+Here's where you must employ all your parental authority.
+
+Nugent
+For myself, I make no pretence to the hand of Miss Elizabeth, unless
+she gives it to me from her heart.
+
+Matthews
+Oh, it's you, the huntsman. When will your return to Cliffordshire
+Manor?
+
+Walter
+Father, if you will only listen to me.
+
+Matthews
+I don't have to listen. To mend the wrong you've done me, you must
+prepare to obey me.
+
+Walter
+If what you order me to do is possible--if not, then I can't do it.
+
+(Enter Belinda.)
+
+Belinda
+Papa, there are, I don't know how many maskers who have just come in
+because they heard the violins. They are very nice. Do you want to let
+them come here?
+
+Matthews
+They are very welcome. On a day like this, we must think only of
+spreading joy.
+
+(Enter Julia, Manly, and other Maskers.)
+
+Countess
+The assembly is not numerous, but it is agreeable. Come here, Walter,
+here is a happy day for you.
+
+Matthews
+Assuredly, a happier one than he deserves.
+
+Countess
+You've been told my intentions.
+
+Walter
+Madame.
+
+Countess
+Now, I will marry you. All your rivals will die of jealousy--but you
+deserve victory. As for the rest, your esteemed father has given his
+word for our marriage.
+
+Nugent
+And, he promised me, too, Miss, that I will have the honor of marrying
+you.
+
+Matthews
+Say something.
+
+Countess
+He's so overwhelmed with joy that he lacks the strength to thank me.
+
+Nugent
+Missy doesn't seem to me so rejoiced by the news I've brought her.
+
+Matthews
+We'll speak of that later, Madame. Let's think of our entertainment.
+
+Countess
+No, if you please, I want to finish. I only dance when I feel like it.
+
+Walter
+If you're in such a hurry to finish, Madame, I will take the liberty
+of saying to you, with my father's permission--that I do not at all
+wish to get married.
+
+Countess (grandly)
+All that is useless.
+
+Walter
+I have great respect for you, Madame--but that is all your person
+inspires me with.
+
+Matthews
+It isn't a question of love or respect. The offer Madame made to me
+was so advantageous for you, and for me, that you cannot do better
+than marry her.
+
+Walter
+Does self interest oblige you to render me miserable? Cast a father's
+eyes at me, and don't drive a son who throws himself at your feet to
+despair. For I am resolved to die a thousand times rather than let
+myself be mercilessly sacrificed.
+
+Matthews
+Get up, rogue, you will wait for me.
+
+Walter
+I won't get up unless you hear my reasons.
+
+Matthews
+I'm sure they're good ones. But I've given my word to Madame. As for
+that, I don't wish to force you to marry her--but I beg you to resolve
+this out of love for me. Can you refuse a request asked by your
+father?---- When he has the right to make you obey him?
+
+Walter
+Heaven is my witness, I have tried to conquer my distaste and to
+respond in kind to such a soft and obliging proceeding; if it still
+depended on me to comply with your wishes in this--but you force me to
+tell you, before the whole world, that I am not free and my word is
+pledged forever.
+
+Matthews
+Forever! Without my consent?
+
+Walter
+Only consider the difficult step I have just taken. You never wanted
+me to marry. I have taken a wife without your consent. My uncle, and
+all my relatives advised me to do it. And it was in their presence
+that I married Julia, Miss Prescott, a week ago.
+
+Matthews
+I'm delighted to know that, Mr. Rogue, I know what measures I must
+take.
+
+Walter
+All your measures will be useless. I pray heaven to destroy me, if I
+ever take another wife, except Julia, Miss Prescott. All the world
+knows Julia,--Miss Prescott, to be wise and virtuous. She had noble
+birth and a fortune large enough so that we can live comfortably
+without having a charge on you. The whole world is ours.
+
+Matthews
+It infuriates me to agree he's right, and that I cannot disapprove
+this marriage without injustice.
+
+Countess
+Well! I can break it, even if you are crazy enough to approve it.
+
+Walter
+And, by what right, Madame, if you please?
+
+Nugent
+Believe me, Madame, it's better to swallow the pill quietly.
+
+Countess
+Wait and see. He will marry me or I will have him abducted.
+
+(Exit Countess.)
+
+Matthews
+Let her talk. It's a woman speaking. Anna, go find Julia. When you
+cannot prevent things, you have to accept them with a good grace. I am
+going to tell her myself that I recognize her as my daughter.
+
+Julia (unmasking)
+Here I am, sir. Let me receive this precious title and tell you that I
+will do everything possible to be worthy of it.
+
+Matthews
+Ah, my daughter-in-law was in the masquerade. Be welcome, Madame. It’s
+not necessary that I say anything more to you as you've overheard
+everything.
+
+Julia
+I am touched by your kindness, and you will never regret it.
+
+Walter
+What a recompense I owe you father.
+
+Matthews
+Forget the sweet talk. Let's enjoy ourselves by celebrating another
+marriage, the one between my daughter and Mr. Nugent.
+
+Anna
+Now, it's your turn, Miss. You must jump the ditch.
+
+Elizabeth
+While you're disposed to pardon, father, and since you've shown so
+much indulgence to my poor brother and Julia. Let me ask you for the
+same grace.
+
+Matthews
+What now?
+
+Elizabeth
+I don't love this gentleman. If my life means anything to you, don't
+force me to marry him. I've thought about dying for a long time during
+my illness--which was brought on by your refusal to let me marry
+Manly. Be sure I am going to die at your feet if you don't approve my
+marriage to Manly as well.
+
+Matthews
+If I don't approve the marriage! You're secretly married, too?
+
+Elizabeth
+It's with great confusion that I admit it. Yes, father, Manly is my
+husband. I've been married to him for the last six months, and my aunt
+who has a fortune wished to unite us together.
+
+Matthews
+Your uncle, your aunt. By God, I'm indebted to my brother and sister
+for the care they take of my children! Well, here's an affair for
+which there's less remedy than the other. Mr. Nugent, I cannot break
+this marriage without dishonoring my daughter.
+
+Nugent
+There's nothing for me to do but leave this honorable company.
+
+(Exit Nugent with a cold bow.)
+
+Matthews
+Come, come, I am well aware there's nothing I can do. Let some one
+tell Manly that I accept him as my son-in-law--but on condition that
+he gets nothing from me until I die.
+
+Manly (unmasking)
+I accept this condition with all my heart. I'm very happy you deign to
+give me Elizabeth, who is worth a hundred times more to me than all
+the wealth in the world.
+
+Matthews
+Oh, my dancing master, you demonstrate to my daughter without my
+permission?-- As for that, children, I pardon your faults and your
+follies, provided you pardon mine.
+
+Walter
+What's that mean, father?
+
+Matthews
+I am secretly married, too. Me, your modest father.
+
+Trim
+Without our consent?
+
+Matthews
+I didn't wish to declare the business for fear it might upset you, but
+this development mutually excuses all.
+
+Walter
+Let's see our step-mother, and we will receive her with all the
+tenderness and respect we owe you.
+
+Matthews
+She is also in the masquerade, and it was for her that I planned the
+party. Deign to unmask, Madame, and take these young marrieds for your
+children.
+
+Sonia (unmasking)
+I'm very happy to enter into so loveable a family. I hope they are as
+happy as I am to be their mother.
+
+Trim
+Anna, shall we give our consent to this marriage?
+
+Anna
+One could criticize it. But, come, it's necessary to grant a general
+amnesty.
+
+Belinda
+Papa. I have one more blessing to ask you.
+
+Matthews
+What? My God, wench, are you secretly married, too?
+
+Belinda
+No, no, Papa. I don't want to be married except by your consent. So I
+bet you; it would be so nice.
+
+Matthews
+We shall see in a few years. Good Lord, it's a rage that runs through
+the entire family.
+
+Trim
+The company is getting impatient. Let the entertainment begin.
+
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+

PG6049_text.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+version https://git-lfs.github.com/spec/v1
+oid sha256:dde3d37033e93cf2673e6fc3ad07d66914550a455bf245804cc523592d589a41
+size 12026567