_Bl._ But then it did. 50 She was his first. ’Twas when duke Philip’s father Was viceroy here; Hugo was then chief justice, And Manuel, who succeeded him, was only Young Philip’s tutor;—he succeeds moreover Now to his pupil’s leavings, and will marry The long-forgotten Constance. _Fer._ ’Twas the other I asked of, in white satin, she who sat On Philip’s right at supper; who is she? _Bl._ That, sir, is Margaret. _Fer._ And who is Margaret? _Bl._ Sister to Manuel. _Fer._ She far outshines 60 Her future sister. _Bl._ They that can see have thought it: And, sir, ’twill tax your better wit to add A tittle to her full accustomed homage. Your broken heart were but a pinch of pepper Sprinkled on porridge. Now for full two years Her reign hath made a melancholy madness The fashion ’mongst our youth. _Fer._ I should much like To be presented. _Bl._ O, sir, at your will. Judge for yourself. See, here they come. (_Aside._) A moth! _Fer._ (_aside_). A very civil fellow. [_They retire to back._ _Enter_ R. _Hugo_, _Philip_, _Manuel_, _Margaret_, _Constance and Livio_. _HUGO._ I am sorry, your grace, We make so small a party. For our poor 71 Reception, and for all shortcomings else, Accuse the occasion. _PHILIP._ I think, your excellence, I cannot play the guest. This house was once So long my home, that here I look to find As little ceremony as I fear I have shewn. _Hu._ So should it be. Make it your home again. _Ph._ I shall forget I have ever been away. _MANUEL._ Five years. _Ph._ Ay, but five years of wandering, Such as can but endear one’s home the more. 80 My memory still would serve me to walk blindfold From any point of the city to these doors. _Man._ What is your memory for our studies, Philip? _Ph._ Too slippery for my profit. Yet the pleasure Lives very brightly;—nay, I could but name One deprivation I have more regretted. _MARGARET._ But now My brother has a new philosophy. _Ph._ Ah! If you share the secret, and I be thought Worthy of initiation, may I hear it? _Mar._ And welcome. Manuel, in his deep research For the first cause and harmony of things, 91 Hit upon both together—they are one: ’Tis love. And now, since I profess it not, And since ’twas learnt of you... _Man._ (_to Mar._). Hush, sister, hush!