Page:The Mysterious Mother - Walpole (1781).djvu/14
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THE MYSTERIOUS MOTHER.
But so—count Edmund being not sixteen,
A lusty youth, his father's very image—
Oh! he has play'd me many a trick—good sir,
Does my young master ever name old Peter?
Well! but I prate—you must forgive my age;
I come to th' point—Her name was Beatrice;
A roguish eye—she ne'er would look on me,
Or we had sav'd full many a woeful day!
Mark you me well?
A lusty youth, his father's very image—
Oh! he has play'd me many a trick—good sir,
Does my young master ever name old Peter?
Well! but I prate—you must forgive my age;
I come to th' point—Her name was Beatrice;
A roguish eye—she ne'er would look on me,
Or we had sav'd full many a woeful day!
Mark you me well?
FLORIAN.
I do.
I do.
PORTER.
This Beatrice—
But hark! my lady comes—retire a while
Beyond those yews—anon I'll tell you more.
This Beatrice—
But hark! my lady comes—retire a while
Beyond those yews—anon I'll tell you more.
FLORIAN.
May I not greet her?
May I not greet her?
PORTER.
For my office, no:
'Twere forfeit of my badge to hold a parley
With one of near thy years. [Florian withdraws.
[The Countess in weeds, with a crucifix in her hand, issues from the castle, accompanied by two maidens, and passes over the stage. When she is gone Florian returns.]
'Tis ever thus.
At break of morn she hies to yonder abbey,
And prostrate o'er some monumental stone,
Seems more to wait her doom, than ask to shun it.
The day is pass'd in ministring to wants
Of health or means; the closing eve beholds
New tears, new pray'rs, or haggar'd meditation.
But if cold moonshine, deep'ning ev'ry frown
For my office, no:
'Twere forfeit of my badge to hold a parley
With one of near thy years. [Florian withdraws.
[The Countess in weeds, with a crucifix in her hand, issues from the castle, accompanied by two maidens, and passes over the stage. When she is gone Florian returns.]
'Tis ever thus.
At break of morn she hies to yonder abbey,
And prostrate o'er some monumental stone,
Seems more to wait her doom, than ask to shun it.
The day is pass'd in ministring to wants
Of health or means; the closing eve beholds
New tears, new pray'rs, or haggar'd meditation.
But if cold moonshine, deep'ning ev'ry frown
Of