Page:Dramas 1.pdf/106

98

An errand worth the toil ev'n ten times told. To see thy figure moving in thy veil, Is worth a course of five good miles at least; To see thy glowing face of welcome is, At lowest reckoning, worth ten score of leagues By sea or land; and this soft thrilling pressure,— O! 'tis worth all the leagues that gird the globe. (Taking her hand.)

What idle words! how canst thou be so foolish? I needs must chide thee for it, thoughtless boy!

Chide me, indeed, who am two years thy elder, And too good months to boot!—Such high pretension! Have sixteen summers and a woman's robe Made thee so very wise and consequential?

Take that, and that, for such discourteous words.

Ay, marry will I, and right gladly too, When this and this are added to the gift.

Forbear such idle rapture, 't is a folly: