A Blot In The 'Scutcheon [2]
They'd follow Lord Tresham into the saloon.
THIRD RETAINER. I!--
FOURTH RETAINER. I!-- Leave Frank alone for catching, at the door, Some hint of how the parley goes inside! Prosperity to the great House once more! Here's the last drop!
FIRST RETAINER. Have at you! Boys, hurrah!
SCENE II.--A Saloon in the Mansion
Enter LORD TRESHAM, LORD MERTOUN, AUSTIN, and GUENDOLEN
TRESHAM. I welcome you, Lord Mertoun, yet once more, To this ancestral roof of mine. Your name --Noble among the noblest in itself, Yet taking in your person, fame avers, New price and lustre,--(as that gem you wear, Transmitted from a hundred knightly breasts, Fresh chased and set and fixed by its last lord, Seems to re-kindle at the core)--your name Would win you welcome!--
MERTOUN. Thanks!
TRESHAM. --But add to that, The worthiness and grace and dignity Of your proposal for uniting both Our Houses even closer than respect Unites them now--add these, and you must grant One favour more, nor that the least,--to think The welcome I should give;--'tis given! My lord, My only brother, Austin: he's the king's. Our cousin, Lady Guendolen--betrothed To Austin: all are yours.
MERTOUN. I thank you--less For the expressed commendings which your seal, And only that, authenticates--forbids My putting from me... to my heart I take Your praise... but praise less claims my gratitude, Than the indulgent insight it implies Of what must needs be uppermost with one Who comes, like me, with the bare leave to ask, In weighed and measured unimpassioned words, A gift, which, if as calmly 'tis denied, He must withdraw, content upon his cheek, Despair within his soul. That I dare ask Firmly, near boldly, near with confidence That gift, I have to thank you. Yes, Lord Tresham, I love your sister--as you'd have one love That lady... oh more, more I love her! Wealth, Rank, all the world thinks me, they're yours, you know, To hold or part with, at your choice--but grant My true self, me without a rood of land, A piece of gold, a name of yesterday, Grant me that lady, and you... Death or life?
GUENDOLEN. [apart to AUSTIN]. Why, this is loving, Austin!
AUSTIN. He's so young!
GUENDOLEN. Young? Old enough, I think, to half surmise He never had obtained an entrance here, Were all this fear and trembling needed.
AUSTIN. Hush! He reddens.
GUENDOLEN. Mark him, Austin; that's true love! Ours must begin again.
TRESHAM. We'll sit, my lord. Ever with best desert goes diffidence. I may speak plainly nor be misconceived That I am wholly satisfied with you On this occasion, when a falcon's eye Were dull compared with mine to search out faults, Is somewhat. Mildred's hand is hers to give Or to refuse.
MERTOUN. But you, you grant my suit? I have your word if hers?
TRESHAM. My best of words If hers encourage you. I trust it will. Have you seen Lady Mildred, by the way?
MERTOUN. I... I... our two demesnes, remember, touch, I have beer used to wander carelessly After my stricken game: the heron roused Deep in my woods, has trailed its broken wing Thro' thicks and glades a mile in yours,--or else Some eyass ill-reclaimed has taken flight And lured me after her from tree to tree, I marked not whither. I have come upon The lady's wondrous beauty unaware, And--and then... I have seen her.
GUENDOLEN [aside to AUSTIN]. Note that mode Of faltering out that, when a lady passed, He, having eyes, did see her! You had said-- "On such a day I scanned her, head to foot; Observed a red, where red should not have been, Outside her elbow; but was pleased enough Upon the whole." Let such irreverent talk Be lessoned for the future!
TRESHAM. What's to say May be said briefly. She has never known A mother's care; I stand for father too. Her beauty is not strange to you, it seems-- You cannot know the good and tender heart, Its girl's trust
THIRD RETAINER. I!--
FOURTH RETAINER. I!-- Leave Frank alone for catching, at the door, Some hint of how the parley goes inside! Prosperity to the great House once more! Here's the last drop!
FIRST RETAINER. Have at you! Boys, hurrah!
SCENE II.--A Saloon in the Mansion
Enter LORD TRESHAM, LORD MERTOUN, AUSTIN, and GUENDOLEN
TRESHAM. I welcome you, Lord Mertoun, yet once more, To this ancestral roof of mine. Your name --Noble among the noblest in itself, Yet taking in your person, fame avers, New price and lustre,--(as that gem you wear, Transmitted from a hundred knightly breasts, Fresh chased and set and fixed by its last lord, Seems to re-kindle at the core)--your name Would win you welcome!--
MERTOUN. Thanks!
TRESHAM. --But add to that, The worthiness and grace and dignity Of your proposal for uniting both Our Houses even closer than respect Unites them now--add these, and you must grant One favour more, nor that the least,--to think The welcome I should give;--'tis given! My lord, My only brother, Austin: he's the king's. Our cousin, Lady Guendolen--betrothed To Austin: all are yours.
MERTOUN. I thank you--less For the expressed commendings which your seal, And only that, authenticates--forbids My putting from me... to my heart I take Your praise... but praise less claims my gratitude, Than the indulgent insight it implies Of what must needs be uppermost with one Who comes, like me, with the bare leave to ask, In weighed and measured unimpassioned words, A gift, which, if as calmly 'tis denied, He must withdraw, content upon his cheek, Despair within his soul. That I dare ask Firmly, near boldly, near with confidence That gift, I have to thank you. Yes, Lord Tresham, I love your sister--as you'd have one love That lady... oh more, more I love her! Wealth, Rank, all the world thinks me, they're yours, you know, To hold or part with, at your choice--but grant My true self, me without a rood of land, A piece of gold, a name of yesterday, Grant me that lady, and you... Death or life?
GUENDOLEN. [apart to AUSTIN]. Why, this is loving, Austin!
AUSTIN. He's so young!
GUENDOLEN. Young? Old enough, I think, to half surmise He never had obtained an entrance here, Were all this fear and trembling needed.
AUSTIN. Hush! He reddens.
GUENDOLEN. Mark him, Austin; that's true love! Ours must begin again.
TRESHAM. We'll sit, my lord. Ever with best desert goes diffidence. I may speak plainly nor be misconceived That I am wholly satisfied with you On this occasion, when a falcon's eye Were dull compared with mine to search out faults, Is somewhat. Mildred's hand is hers to give Or to refuse.
MERTOUN. But you, you grant my suit? I have your word if hers?
TRESHAM. My best of words If hers encourage you. I trust it will. Have you seen Lady Mildred, by the way?
MERTOUN. I... I... our two demesnes, remember, touch, I have beer used to wander carelessly After my stricken game: the heron roused Deep in my woods, has trailed its broken wing Thro' thicks and glades a mile in yours,--or else Some eyass ill-reclaimed has taken flight And lured me after her from tree to tree, I marked not whither. I have come upon The lady's wondrous beauty unaware, And--and then... I have seen her.
GUENDOLEN [aside to AUSTIN]. Note that mode Of faltering out that, when a lady passed, He, having eyes, did see her! You had said-- "On such a day I scanned her, head to foot; Observed a red, where red should not have been, Outside her elbow; but was pleased enough Upon the whole." Let such irreverent talk Be lessoned for the future!
TRESHAM. What's to say May be said briefly. She has never known A mother's care; I stand for father too. Her beauty is not strange to you, it seems-- You cannot know the good and tender heart, Its girl's trust