ROME. A Lady's apartment, with a window open and looking into a garden. Lalage, in deep mourning, reading at a table on which lie some books and a hand mirror. In the back ground Jacinta (a servant maid) leans carelessly upon a chair. _Lalage_. Jacinta! is it thou? _Jacinta_ (_pertly_.) Yes, Ma'am, I'm here. _Lalage_. I did not know, Jacinta, you were in waiting. Sit down!--let not my presence trouble you-- Sit down!--for I am humble, most humble. _Jacinta_ (_aside_.) 'Tis time. (_Jacinta seats herself in a side-long manner upon the chair, resting her elbows upon the back, and regarding her mistress with a contemptuous look. Lalage continues to read._) _Lalage_. "It in another climate, so he said, Bore a bright golden flower, but not i' this soil!" (_pauses--turns over some leaves, and resumes_.) "No lingering winters there, nor snow, nor shower-- But Ocean ever to refresh mankind Breathes the shrill spirit of the western wind." Oh, beautiful!--most beautiful!--how like To what my fevered soul doth dream of Heaven! O happy land! (_pauses_.) She died!--the maiden died! O still more happy maiden who could'st die! Jacinta! (_Jacinta returns no answer, and Lalage presently resumes._) Again!--a similar tale Told of a beauteous dame beyond the sea! Thus speaketh one Ferdinand in the words of the play-- "She died full young"--one Bossola answers him-- "I think not so!--her infelicity Seem'd to have years too many"--Ah luckless lady! Jacinta! (_still no answer_.) Here's a far sterner story But like--oh! very like in its despair-- Of that Egyptian queen, winning so easily A thousand hearts--losing at length her own. She died. Thus endeth the history--and her maids Lean over her and weep--two gentle maids With gentle names--Eiros and Charmion! Rainbow and Dove!----Jacinta! _Jacinta_ (_pettishly_.) Madam, what _is_ it? _Lalage_. Wilt thou, my good Jacinta, be so kind As go down in the library and bring me The Holy Evangelists. _Jacinta_. Pshaw! (_exit_.) _Lalage_. If there be balm For the wounded spirit in Gilead it is there! {14} Dew in the night time of my bitter trouble Will there be found--"dew sweeter far than that Which hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill." (_re-enter Jacinta, and throws a volume on the table_.) There, ma'am's, the book. Indeed she is very troublesome. (_aside_.) _Lalage_ (astonished.) What didst thou say Jacinta? Have I done aught To grieve thee or to vex thee?--I am sorry. For thou hast served me long and ever been Trust-worthy and respectful. (_resumes her reading_.) _Jacinta_. I can't believe She has any more jewels--no--no--she gave me all. (_aside_.)