MARMADUKE One a King, General or Cham, Sultan or Emperor, Strews twenty acres of good meadow-ground With carcases, in lineament and shape And substance, nothing differing from his own, But that they cannot stand up of themselves; Another sits i' th' sun, and by the hour Floats kingcups in the brook--a Hero one We call, and scorn the other as Time's spendthrift; But have they not a world of common ground To occupy--both fools, or wise alike, Each in his way? OSWALD Troth, I begin to think so. MARMADUKE Now for the corner-stone of my philosophy: I would not give a denier for the man Who, on such provocation as this earth Yields, could not chuck his babe beneath the chin, And send it with a fillip to its grave. OSWALD Nay, you leave me behind. MARMADUKE That such a One, So pious in demeanour! in his look So saintly and so pure!--Hark'ee, my Friend, I'll plant myself before Lord Clifford's Castle, A surly mastiff kennels at the gate, And he shall howl and I will laugh, a medley Most tunable. OSWALD In faith, a pleasant scheme; But take your sword along with you, for that Might in such neighbourhood find seemly use.-- But first, how wash our hands of this old Man? MARMADUKE Oh yes, that mole, that viper in the path; Plague on my memory, him I had forgotten. OSWALD You know we left him sitting--see him yonder. MARMADUKE Ha! ha!-- OSWALD As 'twill be but a moment's work, I will stroll on; you follow when 'tis done. [Exeunt.] SCENE changes to another part of the Moor at a short distance--HERBERT is discovered seated on a stone HERBERT A sound of laughter, too!--'tis well--I feared, The Stranger had some pitiable sorrow Pressing upon his solitary heart. Hush!--'tis the feeble and earth-loving wind That creeps along the bells of the crisp heather. Alas! 'tis cold--I shiver in the sunshine-- What can this mean? There is a psalm that speaks Of God's parental mercies--with Idonea I used to sing it.--Listen!--what foot is there? [Enter MARMADUKE]