MEL.

And every air is heavy with the sighs

Of orange groves and music from sweet lutes,
And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth
I' the midst of roses! - Dost thou like the picture?"
This is my bridal home, and thou my bridegroom!
O fool O dupe - O wretch! I see it all.
The by-word and the jeer of every tongue
In Lyons. Hast thou in thy heart one touch
Of human kindness? if thou hast, why kill me,
And save thy wife from madness. No, it cannot
It cannot be; this is some horrid dream;
I shall wake soon.

man? or but

[Touching him.] Art flesh? art

The shadows seen in sleep? It is too real.

What have I done to thee? how sinn'd against thee,
That thou shouldst crush me thus?

Pauline, by pride
Angels have fallen ere thy time; by pride
That sole alloy of thy most lovely mold-
The evil spirit of a bitter love,

And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee.
From my first years my soul was fill'd with thee;
I saw thee midst the flow'rs the lowly boy
Tended, unmark'd by thee - a spirit of bloom,
And joy, and freshness, as if Spring itself
Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape!
I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man
Enter'd the breast of the wild-dreaming boy.
And from that hour I grew what to the last
I shall be thine adorer! Well, this love,
Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became
A fountain of ambition and bright hope;

I thought of tales that by the winter hearth

Old gossips tell — how maidens, sprung from kings,

Have stoop'd from their high sphere; how love, like

death,

Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook

Beside the scepter.

My father died; and I, the peasant born,

Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise
Out of the prison of my mean estate;

And, with such jewels as the exploring mind
Brings from the caves of knowledge, buy my ransom
From those twin jailers of the daring heart-
Low birth and iron fortune. For thee I grew
A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages.
For thee I sought to borrow from each grace,
And every muse, such attributes as lend
Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee,
And passion taught me poesy of thee,
And on the painter's canvas grew the life
Of beauty! Art became the shadow

Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes!
Men call'd me vain some mad I heeded not;
But still toil'd on - hoped on
- for it was sweet,

If not to win, to feel more worthy thee.

PAULINE. Why do I cease to hate him!
MEL. At last, in one mad hour, I dared to pour

The thoughts that burst their channels into song,
And set them to thee such a tribute, lady,

As beauty rarely scorns, even from the meanest.
The name appended by the burning heart.
That long'd to show its idol what bright things
It had created yea, the enthusiast's name,
That should have been thy triumph, was thy scorn;

That very hour-when passion, turn'd to wrath,
Resembled hatred most

when thy disdain

Made my whole soul a chaos in that hour

--

The tempters found me a revengeful tool

For their revenge! Thou hadst trampled on the

worm

It turned and stung thee!

PAULINE.

Love, sir, hath no sting.
What was the slight of a poor powerless girl
To the deep wrong of this most vile revenge?
Oh, how I loved this man!

a serf a slave!
MEL. Hold, lady! No, not a slave! Despair is free.
I will not tell thee of the throes the struggles-
The anguish the remorse. No, let it pass!
And let me come to such most poor atonement
Yet in my power. Pauline!

PAULINE.

MEL.

No, touch me not!

I know my fate. You are, by law, my tyrant;

And I - O Heaven!

a peasant's wife! I'll work Toil-drudge-do what thou wilt-but touch me not! Let my wrongs make me sacred!

Do not fear me.
Thou dost not know me, madam; at the altar
My vengeance ceased my guilty oath expired!
Henceforth, no image of some marble saint,
Niched in cathedral aisles, is hallowed more
From the rude hand of sacrilegious wrong.

I am thy husband nay, thou need'st not shudder!
Here, at thy feet, I lay a husband's rights.

A marriage thus unholy

unfulfill'd

A bond of fraud — is, by the laws of France,

Made void and null. To-night sleep sleep in peace.

To-morrow, pure and virgin as this morn

I bore thee, bathed in blushes, from the shrine,
Thy father's arms shall take thee to thy home.
The law shall do thee justice, and restore
Thy right to bless another with thy love.

And when thou art happy, and hast half forgot

Him who so loved

so wrong'd thee, think at least

Heaven left some remnant of the angel still

In that poor peasant's nature! Ho! my mother!

Enter WIDOW

Conduct this lady (she is not my wife;

She is our guest

our honor'd guest, my mother)

To the poor chamber, where the sleep of virtue
Never, beneath my father's honest roof,

E'en villains dared to mar! Now, lady, now
I think thou wilt believe me.

Go, my mother!

WIDOW. She is not thy wife!

MEL.

Speak not, but go.

Hush, hush for mercy's sake!

[Exit WIDOW. PAULINE follows, weeping — turns to look back. All angels bless and guard her!

RIP VAN WINKLE1

WASHINGTON IRVING

ACT I, SCENE I

CHARACTERS: Rip Van Winkle; Derrick Von Beekman, the villain of the play, who endeavors to get Rip drunk, in order to have him sign away his property; Nick Vedder, the village innkeeper.

SCENE: The village inn; present, Von Beekman, alone.

Enter RIP, shaking off the children, who cling about him

RIP [to the children]. Say! hullo, dere, yu Yacob Stein! Let that dog Schneider alone, will you? Dere, I tole you dat all de time, if you don'd let him alone he's goin' to bide you! Why, hullo, Derrick! How you was? Ach, my! Did you

1 Adapted by Mr. A. P. Burbank.

hear dem liddle fellers just now? Dey most plague me crazy. Ha, ha, ha! I like to laugh my outsides in every time I tink about it. Just now, as we was comin' along togedder, Schneider and me I don'd know if you know Schneider myself? Well, he's my dog. Well, dem liddle fellers, dey took Schneider, und ha, ha, ha! - dey-ha, ha, ha! - dey tied a tin kettle mit his tail! Ha, ha, ha! My gracious! Of you had seen My, how scared he was! Vell, he was a-runnin' an' de kettle was a-bangin' an' ha, ha, ha! you believe it, dat dog, he run right betwixt me an' my legs! Ha, ha, ha! He spill me und all dem leddle fellers down in de mud togedder. Ha, ha, ha!

dat dog run!

VON B. Ah, yes, that's all right, Rip, very funny, very funny; but what do you say to a glass of liquor, Rip?

RIP. Well, now, Derrick, what do I generally say to a glass? I generally say it's a good ting, don'd I? Und I generally say a good deal more to what is in it, dan to de glass.

VON B. Certainly, certainly! Say, hallo, there! Nick Vedder, bring out a bottle of your best!

RIP. Dat's right-fill 'em up. You wouldn't believe, Derrick, but dat is de first one I have had to-day. I guess maybe de reason is, I couldn't got it before. Ah, Derrick, my score is too big! Well, here is your good health und your family's – may dey all live long and prosper. [They drink.] Ach! you may well smack your lips, und go ah, ah! over dat liquor. You don'd give me such liquor like dat every day, Nick Vedder. Well, come on, fill 'em up again. Git out mit dat water, Nick Vedder, I don'd want no water in my liquor. Good liquor und water, Nick Vedder, is just like man and wife, dey don'd agree well togedder-dat's me und my wife, any way. Well, come on again. Here is your good health und your family's, und may dey all live long und prosper !

NICK VEDDER. That's right, Rip; drink away, and "drown your sorrows in the flowing bowl."