Page:The Mysterious Mother - Walpole (1781).djvu/12
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THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
FLORIAN.
In sooth, good friend, my knighthood is not school'd
In voluntary rigours—I can fast,
March supperless, and make cold earth my pillow,
When my companions know no choicer fare.
But seldom roost in churches, or reject
The ready banquet, or a willing fair one.
In sooth, good friend, my knighthood is not school'd
In voluntary rigours—I can fast,
March supperless, and make cold earth my pillow,
When my companions know no choicer fare.
But seldom roost in churches, or reject
The ready banquet, or a willing fair one.
PORTER.
Angels defend us! what a reprobate!
Yon mould'ring porch for sixteen years and more
Has not been struck with such unhallow'd sounds.
Hence to thy lewd companions!
Angels defend us! what a reprobate!
Yon mould'ring porch for sixteen years and more
Has not been struck with such unhallow'd sounds.
Hence to thy lewd companions!
FLORIAN.
Father greybeard,
I cry you mercy; nor was't my intention
To wound your reverence's saint-like organs.
But come, thou hast known other days—canst tell
Of banquettings and dancings—'twas not always thus.
Father greybeard,
I cry you mercy; nor was't my intention
To wound your reverence's saint-like organs.
But come, thou hast known other days—canst tell
Of banquettings and dancings—'twas not always thus.
PORTER.
No, no—time was—my lord, the count of Narbonne,
A prosperous gentleman, were he alive,
We should not know these moping melancholies.
Heav'n rest his soul! I marvel not my lady
Cherishes his remembrance, for he was
Comely to sight, and wond'rous goodly built.
They say his son count Edmund's mainly like him.
Would these old arms, that serv'd his grandfather,
Could once enfold him! I should part in peace.
No, no—time was—my lord, the count of Narbonne,
A prosperous gentleman, were he alive,
We should not know these moping melancholies.
Heav'n rest his soul! I marvel not my lady
Cherishes his remembrance, for he was
Comely to sight, and wond'rous goodly built.
They say his son count Edmund's mainly like him.
Would these old arms, that serv'd his grandfather,
Could once enfold him! I should part in peace.
FLORIAN.
What, if I bring thee tidings of count Edmund!
What, if I bring thee tidings of count Edmund!
PORTER.
Mercy befall me! now my dream is out.
Mercy befall me! now my dream is out.
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