Bal. The song is English, and I oft have heard it In merry England,-never so plaintively. Bal. The hour is growing late-the duke awaits Bal. Let us descend;-'tis time. Politian, give These fancies to the wind. Remember, pray, Your bearing lately savoured much of rudeness Pol. Remember! I do. Lead on. I do remem- Let us descend. Believe me, I would give, [Going. Freely would give, the broad lands of my earldom "To gaze upon that veilèd face, and hear Once more that silent tongue." Bal. Let me beg you, sir, Descend with me; the duke may be offended. Let us go down, I pray you. Pol. (aside) 'Tis strange,―tis very strange! Me thought the voice Chimed in with my desires, and bade me stay. [Approaching the window. Sweet voice, I heed thee, and will surely stay. I go not down to-night. Bal. Shall be attended to. Your lordship's pleasure Good night, Politian. Pol. Good night, my friend, good night. Lal. And dost thou speak of love To me Politian ?-dost thou speak of love To Lalage?-Ah, woe-ah, woe is me! This mockery is most cruel-most cruel indeed. Pol. Weep not; O, sob not thus: thy bitter tears Will madden me. O, mourn not, Lalage: Be comforted. I know I know it all, And still I speak of love. Look at me, brightest, Thou askest me if I could speak of love, Knowing what I know, and seeing what I have seen. Not on God's altar, in any time or clime, [Arising. Even for thy woes I love thee—even for thy woes— Thy beauty and thy woes. Lal. Alas, proud earl, Thou dost forget thyself, remembering me. How, in thy father's halls, among the maidens Could the dishonoured Lalage abide ? My seared and blighted name, how would it tally And with thy glory? Pol. Speak not to me of glory. I hate-I loathe the name; I do abhor Art thou not Lalage, and I Politian? Do I not love?-art thou not beautiful ?— What need we more? Ha, glory!-now speak not of it. By all I hold most sacred and most solemn— Descend together; and then and then, perchance Lal. Why dost thou pause, Politian? Pol. And then, perchance, Arise together, Lalage, and roam The starry and quiet dwellings of the blest, And still Lal. Why dost thou pause, Politian? Pol. And still together-together. Lal. Now, Earl of Leicester, Thou lovest me, and in my heart of hearts I feel thou lovest me truly. Pol. O Lalage. [Throwing himself upon his knee. And lovest thou me? Lal. Hist, hush; within the gloom |