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woman one loves, when she's taking a nap, and check one's inclination of kissing her eyelids, for fear of awaking her? Should’st thou ever slumber at night, with thy head upon my shoulder, Agnes, I would not stir to disturb thee, though I were bit all over by a million of musquitos.
Agnes. Away, you giddy pate! Thou wilt be a right follower of the bottle shortly. When the liquor mounts, then thou wilt flatter me, and prate nonsense, like the best Christian toper of them all.
Sadi. Why, look thee, sweet: ere I loved a bottle, I loved a woman; and I am told, he that sticks fairly to the one, seldom behaves like a knave to the other. My love for wine is but of a few hours' growth; yet, though I am enamoured at first taste, I mean to stick by it with true Christian constancy; for it has let me into a secret, Agnes : every drop I take of it makes me find out how much delight I have in thy company; I grow fonder and fonder at every tipple.
Agnes. Ay, so it would happen were any other present but I.
Sadi. No, by Mahom--Pish! that's a Mussulman oath, and disgraces a mouth that has been washed with wine. By St. Dominick, then, sweet Agnes, should all the beauties of Spain be collected together, like a huge row of filberts, I would pick thee from the cluster, nor think another nut in the whole
worth cracking. Agnes. Will thy love hold fast, now, after we are married, Sadi?
Sadi. Ay, marry, will it, and never let go. 'Tis in my nature, wench: you might as soon think to scour me white, as scrub my love out of me. 'Tis of the lasting kind, Agnes, like my countenance.
Agnes. And if thy skin grows dusky as thy love strengthens, Sadi, I should think thee pretty, though thy cheeks were as dark as a raven.
Sadi. There is no accounting for the taste of a female. Were all women of thy mind, Agnes, what a number of vain copper-faced gentlemen would strut about among the girls in Christian countries ! We should frisk it through the towns as merry as dogs in the market; and dingy puppies would be as plenty as those of a lighter complex ion!
Enter FLORANTHe and ROQUE, L.
Sadi. I have now near two full flagons of Christianity
Sadi. Lovely as the day he was, but envious clouds
Agnes. Never trust me, Sadi, if he means not our guide.
Sadi. [To Flor.] Answer me to one point, and I can satisfy you : is he crazy?
Roque. Crazy !-Now do my fingers itch to beat this unmannerly morsel of dinginess !
Sadi. Hark ye, rough sir: should occasion serve, I can go to cuffs with as good will as another.
Agnes. Nay, Sadi!
Sadi. Well, then, I won't cuff him.
answer thee. He whom we seek, through wayward circumstance And crosses of the time though in the main,
His reason is most clear-will in some sort
Sadi. Well, such a man have I seen; such a man, in pure kindness, has conducted us hither; and such a man is now within, in the hut here,
Flor. Here !-Mercy, Heaven !
Roque. (Apart to Floranthe.) Nay, may; bear up, lady. Our labour now will soon have an end; all will be well, I warrant. [To Sadi.] Lead us in, my good fellow.
Sadi. [Aside.] Good fellow !- This is one of your weathercock knaves, now, that points always as the wind
A sudden puff of my information has blown him round to civility. | To Roque.] In, and we'll follow you; we must wait awhile, however, in the outward nook of the hovel; for to thrust ourselves suddenly into the presence of so moody a gentleman, might haply offend his dignity. (Exeunt Roque and Floranthe, c. D. F. Come, Agnes. Agnes. Have with you, Sadi.
Sadi, Nay, I would not budge an inch without you, sweet. I say, Agnes, this snug little cabin of the goatherd's, with good cheer and excellent Malaga, is better than trudging over the mountains with tired legs and empty stomachs.
DUET.-SADI and AGNES.
Plods, uncheerily, afraid to stop;
Threads the mazes tow rd the mountain's top! Though so melancholy day has passed by,
'Twould be folly now to think on't more Blithe and jolly, he the keg holds fast by, As he's sitting at the goaiherd's door :
At past labour laughing;
Better far, by hall, in
Seems, while sitting at the goatherd's door! [Exeunt, L.
Scene III.— The Inside of a Goatherd's Cottage.
Enter OCTAVIAN and a GOATHERD, R. S. E. Goat. Neither food nor repose !-Well, 'tis strange!-Will nothing persuade you to take refreshment, gentle sir !
Oct. Nothing that thou canst say. Why, thou art old; And 'tis the trick of age to proffer gifts, Merely to tease the wretch that would accept them.
Goat. Nay, by our lady !
Oct. Hark ye : ere now, there came a hoary cheat,
Goat. Mass! 'twas a sorry method of regaling! Were I given to revelry, I would look for liquor of another brewage.
Oct. Thou'dst look for anything to swell thy store,
Goat. I have but one-one only daughter; and, alas ! she has gone I know not whither. Pedro had had my consent to woo her, had he not been altogether poor; and now she has strayed away in despair, because I would not see her wed unhappily. Oct. Why, 'twas well done!-'Twas justice on thy ava.
Of this world's traffic! When the crover comes,
Goat. I will, sir; but I am not as you would picture me, for all your saying. I have not lived forty years on the credit of my cattle, to offer rotten rams for sale at this time of day, and pass them current. I shall to the door, sir.
[E.cit, L. Oct. Pulling a miniature from his bosom. Out, bauble! Let me kiss thee !-Sweet Floranthe! When the cold limner drew thy semblance here, How charmed I sat, to mark the modest flush That virgin nature threw into thy face, As the dull cold unmoved did stare upon thee, To pencil out thy features' character! Those times are past, Floranthe; yet ’tis comfort To bring remembrance full upon
eye; 'Tis soothing to a fond and care-worn heart To drop a tear on the loved lineaments Of her it ne'er must hope to meet again !
Enter ROQUE, L. Roque. (Aside.] Now know not I how to accost him. Poor gentleman! times are sadly changed with him since I saw him, fresh and well caparisoned, gazing on my young lady, in my old master's mansion at Seville ! [Aloud.] Signior, do you not remember my countenance ?
Oct. No; Providence has slubbered it in haste;
Roque. Get me gone! Ah, signior! the time has been when you would question old Roque kindly after his health, as he lifted up the latch to give you admittance to poor Donna Floranthe!