The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 (of 8)Wordsworth, William
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The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth — Volume 1 (of 8)
Wordsworth, William
English poetry -- 18th century; English poetry -- 19th century
HERBERT This is true comfort, thanks a thousand times!--
That noise!--would I had gone with her as far
As the Lord Clifford's Castle: I have heard
That, in his milder moods, he has expressed
Compassion for me. His influence is great
With Henry, our good King;--the Baron might
Have heard my suit, and urged my plea at Court.
No matter--he's a dangerous Man.--That noise!--
'Tis too disorderly for sleep or rest.
Idonea would have fears for me,--the Convent
Will give me quiet lodging. You have a boy, good Host,
And he must lead me back.
OSWALD You are most lucky;
I have been waiting in the wood hard by
For a companion--here he comes; our journey
[Enter MARMADUKE]
Lies on your way; accept us as your Guides.
HERBERT Alas! I creep so slowly.
OSWALD Never fear;
We'll not complain of that.
HERBERT My limbs are stiff
And need repose. Could you but wait an hour?
OSWALD Most willingly!--Come, let me lead you in,
And, while you take your rest, think not of us;
We'll stroll into the wood; lean on my arm.
[Conducts HERBERT into the house. Exit MARMADUKE.]
[Enter Villagers]
OSWALD (to himself, coming out of the Hostel)
I have prepared a most apt Instrument--
The Vagrant must, no doubt, be loitering somewhere
About this ground; she hath a tongue well skilled,
By mingling natural matter of her own
With all the daring fictions I have taught her,
To win belief, such as my plot requires.
[Exit OSWALD.]
[Enter more Villagers, a Musician among them]
HOST (to them)
Into the court, my Friend, and perch yourself
Aloft upon the elm-tree. Pretty Maids,
Garlands and flowers, and cakes and merry thoughts,
Are here, to send the sun into the west
More speedily than you belike would wish.
SCENE changes to the Wood adjoining the Hostel--
[MARMADUKE and OSWALD entering]
MARMADUKE I would fain hope that we deceive ourselves:
When first I saw him sitting there, alone,
It struck upon my heart I know not how.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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