No More Learning

I did not think that, during that long absence,
My Child, forgetful of the name of Herbert,
Had given her love to a wild Freebooter,
Who here, upon the borders of the Tweed,
Doth prey alike on two distracted Countries,
Traitor to both.


IDONEA Oh, could you hear his voice!
I will not call on Heaven to vouch for me,
But let this kiss speak what is in my heart.


[Enter a Peasant]


PEASANT Good morrow, Strangers! If you want a Guide,
Let me have leave to serve you!


IDONEA My Companion
Hath need of rest; the sight of Hut or Hostel
Would be most welcome.


PEASANT Yon white hawthorn gained,
You will look down into a dell, and there
Will see an ash from which a sign-board hangs;
The house is hidden by the shade. Old Man,
You seem worn out with travel--shall I support you?


HERBERT I thank you; but, a resting-place so near,
'Twere wrong to trouble you.


PEASANT God speed you both.


[Exit Peasant. ]


HERBERT Idonea, we must part. Be not alarmed--
'Tis but for a few days--a thought has struck me.


IDONEA That I should leave you at this house, and thence
Proceed alone. It shall be so; for strength
Would fail you ere our journey's end be reached.
[Exit HERBERT supported by IDONEA. ]

[Re-enter MARMADUKE and OSWALD]


MARMADUKE This instant will we stop him--


OSWALD Be not hasty,
For, sometimes, in despite of my conviction,
He tempted me to think the Story true;
'Tis plain he loves the Maid, and what he said
That savoured of aversion to thy name
Appeared the genuine colour of his soul--
Anxiety lest mischief should befal her
After his death.


MARMADUKE
I have been much deceived.


OSWALD But sure he loves the Maiden, and never love
Could find delight to nurse itself so strangely,
Thus to torment her with _inventions! _--death--
There must be truth in this.


MARMADUKE Truth in his story!
He must have felt it then, known what it was,
And in such wise to rack her gentle heart
Had been a tenfold cruelty.


OSWALD Strange pleasures
Do we poor mortals cater for ourselves!
To see him thus provoke her tenderness
With tales of weakness and infirmity!
I'd wager on his life for twenty years.


MARMADUKE We will not waste an hour in such a cause.


OSWALD Why, this is noble! shake her off at once.


MARMADUKE Her virtues are his instruments. --A Man
Who has so practised on the world's cold sense,
May well deceive his Child--what! leave her thus,
A prey to a deceiver?