Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/55

Rh

Allotted to the wife. See, noble Falkenstein Hath silent been the while, nor spoke one word In aid of all your specious arguments. What's your advice, my Lord? (to Theo.)

Theo. Ah, noble Orra, 'Twere like self-murder to give honest counsel, Then urge me not.—I frankly do confess I should be more heroic than I am.

Or. Right well I see thy head approves my plan, And by and by, so will thy generous heart. In short, I would, without another's leave, Improve the low condition of my peasants, And cherish them in peace. Ev'n now methinks Each little cottage of my native vale Swells out its earthen sides, up-heaves its roof, Like to a hillock mov'd by lab'ring mole, And with green trail-weeds clamb'ring up its walls, Roses and ev'ry gay and fragrant plant Before my fancy stands, a fairy bower: Aye, and within it too do fairies dwell. Peep thro' its wreathed window, if indeed The flowers grow not too close, and there within Thou'lt see some half a dozen rosy brats, Eating from wooden bowls their dainty milk;— Those are my mountain elves. See'st thou not Their very forms distinctly?