_Alice_. Did I not tell thee thus Thy mother used to talk? Such hand and foot, She would say, in man or woman vouched for nature High tempered!--Still for sentiment refined; Affection tender; apprehension quick-- Degrees beyond the generality! There is a marriage finger! Curse the hand Would balk it of a ring! _Wal_. She's quite restored, Leave us!--Why cast'st thou that uneasy look? Why linger'st thou? I'm not alone with her. My honour's with her too. I would not wrong her. _Alice_. And if thou wouldst, thou'rt not thy mother's son. [Goes out.] _Wal_. You are better? _Lydia_. Much!--much! _Wal_. Know you him who durst Attempt this violence in open day? It seemed as he would force thee to his coach, I saw attending. _Lydia_. Take this letter, sir, And send the answer--I must needs be gone. _Wal_. [Throwing the letter away.] I read no letter! Tell me, what of him I saw offend thee? _Lydia_. He hath often met me, And by design I think, upon the street, And tried to win mine ear, which ne'er he got Save only by enforcement. Presents--gifts-- Of jewels and of gold to wild amount, To win an audience, hath he proffered me; Until, methought, my silence--for my lips Disdained reply where question was a wrong-- Had wearied him. Oh, sir, whate'er of life Remains to me I had foregone, ere proved The horror of this hour!--and you it is That have protected me? _Wal_. Oh, speak not on't! _Lydia_. You that have saved me from mine enemy-- _Wal_. I pray you to forget it. _Lydia_. From a foe More dire than he that putteth life in peril-- _Wal_. Sweet Lydia, I beseech you spare me. _Lydia_. No! I will not spare you.--You have brought me to safety, You whom I fear worse than that baleful foe. [Rises to go.] _Wal_. [Kneeling and snatching her hand.] Lydia! _Lydia_. Now, make thy bounty perfect. Drop My hand. That posture which dishonours thee, Quit!--for 'tis shame on shame to show respect Where we do feel disdain. Throw ope thy gate And let me pass, and never seek with me, By look, or speech, or aught, communion more! _Wal_. Thou saidst thou lovedst me? _Lydia_. Yes! when I believed My tongue did take of thee its last adieu, And now that I do know it--for be sure It never bids adieu to thee again-- Again, I tell it thee! Release me, sir! Rise!--and no hindrance to my will oppose, That would be free to go. _Wal_. I cannot lose thee! _Lydia_. Thou canst not have me! _Wal_. No! _Lydia_. Thou canst not. I Repeat it.--Yet I'm thine--thine every way, Except where honour fences!--Honour, sir, Not property of gentle blood alone; Of gentle blood not always property! Thou'lt not obey me. Still enforcest me! Oh, what a contradiction is a man! What in another he one moment spurns, The next--he does himself complacently! _Wal_. Wouldst have me lose the hand that holds my life?