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Whilst ev'ry ornament of mine, forsooth, Must hang like trappings on a May-day queen. (Angrily to the Page, who is smiling to himself.) Youngster be gone. Why do you loiter here? [ Page.

Ther. What would you, madam, chuse to, wear to-night? One of your newest robes?

Lady.I hate them all.

Ther. Surely, that purple scarf became you well, With all those wreaths of richly hanging flowers. Did I not overhear them say, last night, As from the crouded ball-room ladies past, How gay and handsome, in her costly dress, The Countess Freberg look'd.

Lady.Did'st thou o'erhear it?

Ther. I did, and more than this.

Lady. Well, all are not so greatly prejudic'd; All do not think me like a May-day queen, Which peasants deck in sport.

Ther.And who said this?

''Lady. (Putting her handkerchief to her eyes.)'' E'en my good lord, Theresa.

Ther. He said it but in jest. He loves you well.

Lady. I know as well as thee he loves me well; But what of that? he takes no pride in me. Elsewhere his praise and admiration go, And Jane De Monfort is not mortal woman.

Ther. The wond'rous character this lady bears For worth and excellence; from early youth The friend and mother of her younger sisters