LENOX. Thanks--a thousand thanks, beloved Christine; you have removed a mountain of doubts and anxious wishes from my heart: I did hope for this reward, though it was a daring one. Love and honour must now inspire me, and should we again be triumphant in battle, I shall return to claim the reward of constancy--a reward dearer than thrones--the heart of a lovely and virtuous woman. CHRISTINE. Enough, dear Lenox; I shall never doubt your faith. But come, let us in to breakfast--stay--my knight of the rueful countenance, where is the portrait which you have been sketching of me? Let me look at your progress. LENOX. 'Tis here. [_Gives a small drawing book._ CHRISTINE. [_Opening it._] Heavens, how unlike! Why Lenox, you were dreaming of the _Venus de Medici_ when you drew this--Oh, you flatterer! LENOX. Nay, 'tis not finished; now stand there, while I sketch the drapery.--[_Places her at a distance, takes out a pencil, and works at the drawing._] CHRISTINE. Why, what a statue you are making of me. Pray, why not make a picture of it at once? Place me in that bower, with a lute and a lap dog, sighing for your return; then draw a soldier disguised as a pilgrim, leaning on his staff, and his cowl thrown back; let that pilgrim resemble thee, and then let the little dog bark, and I fainting, and there's a subject for the pencil and pallet. LENOX. Sing, dear Christine, while I finish the drawing--it may be the last time I shall ever hear you. CHRISTINE. Oh, do not say so, my gloomy cavalier; a soldier, and despair? THE KNIGHT ERRANT. _Written by the late Queen of Holland._ It was Dunois, the young and brave, was bound to Palestine, But first he made his orisons before St. Mary's shrine: And grant, immortal Queen of Heav'n, was still the soldier's prayer, That I may prove the bravest knight, and love the fairest fair. His oath of honour on the shrine he grav'd it with his sword, And follow'd to the Holy Land the banner of his Lord; Where, faithful to his noble vow, his war-cry fill'd the air-- Be honour'd, aye, the bravest knight, beloved the fairest fair. They ow'd the conquest to his arm, and then his liege lord said, The heart that has for honour beat must be by bliss repaid: My daughter Isabel and thou shall be a wedded pair, For thou art bravest of the brave, she fairest of the fair. And then they bound the holy knot before St. Mary's shrine, Which makes a paradise on earth when hearts and hands combine; And every lord and lady bright that was in chapel there, Cry'd, Honour'd be the bravest knight, belov'd the fairest fair. LENOX. There, 'tis finished--how do you like it? CHRISTINE. Why, so, so--if you wish something to remind you of me, it will do.