Nay! none can know. [_Aside._] Doubtless a message from him--I must see That they meet not, or else-- [_Aloud._] Adieu! fair cousin; I trust you'll find your senses yet ere long. [_Exit BASIL, L._] _Flor._ Once more he's gone--O world! indeed thou art Too oft the bad man's friend. _Sir Sim._ [_Within._] Ho! nephew Basil, Ho! Basil! [_Enter SIR SIMON, R._] Where's my nephew? [_To Florence._] _Flor._ He has left This moment, sir! O listen, he is rude. I cannot wed him,--Father! make me not Unhappy-- _Sir Sim._ Nay! Thou know'st, indeed, my child, How I do love thee. 'Tis a good young man, And wealthy--no fool, like his brother. Fool, Said I?--a madman, ape, dolt, idiot, ass, An honourable ass to give the land His weak sire left him, to our Basil--Ha! _He'll_ give none back, I think !--no! no! Come, girl! Wouldst thou be foolish, too? I would not marry For money only, understand--no! no! That I abhor, detest, but in my life I never saw a sweeter, properer youth. You like him not? Tush! marriage doth bring liking. Ay! love too--you are young! _Flor._ But, I've enough-- Why wed at all? _Sir Sim._ Girl! girl! I say, would'st drive Thy father mad! A very handsome man, A healthy fine young man--lands joining too! Nay! I could curse you, wench! Not have him? This Comes from your mawkish sentiment. You are No child of mine-- _Flor._ Dear father! Hear me! _Sir Sim._ Mark! You're not of legal age--I'll drive you forth. I'd rather see you dead, here, at my feet, Than baulk my counsels thus. Nay, try and see If sentiment will feed you, trick you out. O, who would be a father? _Flor._ Have I not E'er shown you love and duty? _Sir Sim._ Then obey! If I'd said nought--Oh! then you'd been in love With him, against my will-- _Flor._ No, sir, indeed! Spare me--I'll think--I'll try. Be kind to me! _Sir Sim._ Well, well, child, 'tis not right to treat me thus: If I were full of passion--harsh, unkind, Your conduct were less cruel. But, you'll kill The old man some day with your cruelty. You don't care for him--not you; yet he acts All for your good. Some day you'll think so when You've lost him. Come, come, dry your tears, now kiss me; I should die happy, were you married well. I am old--all this agitation kills me. _Flor._ Nay, father, talk not so. _Sir Sim._ You should obey me. Your mother never dar'd oppose me thus; She swore obedience, and I made her keep it. _Flor._ [_Aside._] My mother, she died young, and yet too old; The breath of her whole life was one long sigh; She look'd like her own mourning effigy. Her sad "good morrow" was as others say "Good night." We never saw her smile but once, And then we wept around her dying couch, For 'twas the dazzling light of joy that stream'd Upon her from the opening gates of heaven; That smile was parted, she so gently died, Between the wan corpse and the fleeting spirit.