No More Learning

_ Which epoch makes
Young women and old wine; and 'tis great pity,
Of two such excellent things, increase of years,
Which still improves the one, should spoil the other. 380
Fill full--Here's to our hostess! --your fair wife!
[_Takes the glass_.

_Iden. _ Fair! --Well, I trust your taste in wine is equal
To that you show for beauty; but I pledge you
Nevertheless.

_Gab. _ Is not the lovely woman
I met in the adjacent hall, who, with
An air, and port, and eye, which would have better
Beseemed this palace in its brightest days
(Though in a garb adapted to its present
Abandonment), returned my salutation--
Is not the same your spouse?

_Iden. _ I would she were! 390
But you're mistaken:--that's the stranger's wife.

_Gab. _ And by her aspect she might be a Prince's;
Though time hath touched her too, she still retains
Much beauty, and more majesty.

_Iden.
_ And that
Is more than I can say for Madame Idenstein,
At least in beauty: as for majesty,
She has some of its properties which might
Be spared--but never mind!

_Gab. _ I don't. But who
May be this stranger? He too hath a bearing
Above his outward fortunes.

_Iden. _ There I differ. 400
He's poor as Job, and not so patient; but
Who he may be, or what, or aught of him,
Except his name (and that I only learned
To-night), I know not.

_Gab. _ But how came he here?

_Iden. _ In a most miserable old caleche,
About a month since, and immediately
Fell sick, almost to death. He should have died.

_Gab. _ Tender and true! --but why?