BUGLEMAN.

Most true, my Lord!-I am not what I was!
Plague of this asthma ! Better have the mange!

(Winds a recheat.)

Enter ATHULF, followed by a Page.

ATHULF.

Set forward with the dogs-the King desires it.

[Exeunt CHIEF HUNTSMAN and his train.

And hark ye, we shall hunt to-morrow too ;

Here-boy! Tell whom it may concern, to-morrow
The King gives leave that I should ride Greymalkin.
I'll wear my hunting suit of green and gold.

See that Greymalkin is brought here betimes,
For we start early.-Grace be with thy thoughts,
And peace with grace,
and joy be with thy heart,
Sidroc the sober!-Go thy way, my boy.

Hast thou a moral ready? Come, a moral.

SIDROC.

[Exit PAGE.

For what? Greymalkin, or the green and gold?

ATHULF.

Neither they serve- -they come but second now

Appliance-means.

Am I a coxcomb ?

SIDROC.

No more-why that is well.

ATHULF.

SIDROC.

Who can answer that ?

Thou wast not yesterday; but lo! at Court
If but a man shall stoop his head a minute,
Leaps a bespangled monkey on his back
And grins at all beholders.

ATHULF.

Oh, my soul !

Be not coxcomical I beg of thee !

For I am lifted in mine own conceit,

That is most certain.

SIDROC.

I lament thy rise.

But come- -discourse it orderly; by what beck
Of Fortune's crookedest finger wast thou led

Up this ridiculous ascent ?

Some special favour?

The King?

ATHULF.

Pooh ! The King is kind,

But that is nothing.

SIDROC.

Nothing good, I grant you.

The sun that striking in upon thine hearth

Puts out thy fire, may yet too weakly shine
Itself to yield thee warmth: True, you say well,
The King is nothing. What less chilling light
Has beamed upon thy fancy?

ATHULF.

By my soul,

I know not that I shall not be ashamed
To tell my story. As I went to Court
Late yesterday, the Queen, who saw me, sent
Commanding my attendance. A long hour
I waited, conning in the Troy-Town Chamber
The stories in the tapestry, when appeared
The Princess, with that merry child Prince Guy.
He loves me well, and made her stop and sit,
And sate upon her knee, and it so chanced
That in his various chatter he denied

That I could hold his hand within mine own
So closely as to hide it; this being tried
Was proved against him; he insisted then
I could not by his royal sister's hand

Do likewise Starting at the random word

:

And dumb with trepidation, there I stood

Some seconds as bewitched; then I looked up
And in her face beheld an orient flush

Of half-bewildered pleasure: from which trance
She with an instant ease resumed herself,
And frankly with a pleasant laugh held out
Her arrowy hand.

SIDROC.

What could she less? a hand

To have and hold is something; but to hold

And not to have—but end your tale—this hand—

ATHULF.

I thought it trembled as it lay in mine,

But yet her looks were clear, direct, and free,

And said that she felt nothing.

SIDROC.

What felt'st thou ?

ATHULF.

A sort of swarming, curling, tremulous tumbling,

As though there were an ant-hill in my bosom.
-I said I was ashamed.-Sidroc, you smile;
If at my folly, well! But if you smile

Suspicious of a taint upon my heart,

Wide is your error and you never loved.

SIDROC.

Well, but proceed, I pray you.

Of this hand

The issue in experiment? the proof?
This lesser quantity-this in majore-
Was it containable?

ATHULF.

I proved it not.

More manly, wise and courteous I deemed it
Not to press hard an opportunity

Or wring it dry, but something leave behind
In warrant that no greedy grasping heart
Was mine, that on a light and trivial token
Feeding might grow in self-encouragement
Too fast to fatness.

SIDROC.

I conceive your counsel;

Not all devouring was your policy;

Something you left for bait.

ATHULF.

'Twas not in craft.