What did he say? He'd marry her himself!

How stupid are you, cousin!
Mod. You are not well yet.

Hel.

Mod.

Let me go!

Yes.

I'm sure you're not.

Hel. I'm sure I am.

Mod.

Nay, let me hold you, cousin :

I like it.

Hel.

Do you? I would wager you

You could not tell me why.

What see you in my face to wonder at?

Mod. A pair of eyes.
Hel. [Aside.]

Well? How you stare!

At last he'll find his tongue.

A handsome one.

Hel. What kind of mouth have I?
Mod.

I never saw so sweet a pair of lips:

I ne'er saw lips at all till now, dear cousin!

Hel. Cousin, I'm well, you need not hold me now. Do you not hear? I tell you I am well;

I need your arm no longer; take't away!

So tight it locks me, 'tis with pain I breathe:

Let me go, cousin! Wherefore do you hold

Your face so close to mine? What do you mean?

Mod. You've question'd me, and now I'll question you. Hel. What would you learn?

Mod.

Hel.

I do.

Indeed!

You're wondrous wise! And pray, what is it?

Mod.

This!

[Attempts to kiss her.

Hel. Soft! My hand thanks you, cousin; for my lips,

I keep them for a husband.

Nay, stand off!

I'll not be held in manacles again.

Why do you follow me?

Mod.

I love you, cousin!

Hel. O cousin, say you so? That's passing strange! A thing to sigh for, weep for, languish for,

Hie to thy dressing-room, and I'll to mine,

Attire thee for the altar, -so will I.

Whoe'er may claim me, thouʼrt the man shall have me.
Away! Dispatch! But hark you, ere you go:

Ne'er brag of reading Ovid's "Art of Love"!
Mod. And cousin, stop, one little word with you!
[Beckons HELEN over to him, snatches a kiss.
She runs off;
he takes the book from his bosom, which he had put there
in former scene, looks at it, and throws it down. Exit.

INGOMAR, THE BARBARIAN.

FREDERICK HALM: Translated by MARIA Lovell.

Аст І. SCENE I.

CHARACTERS: ACTEA, MYRON's wife; PARTHENIA, their daughter, a beautiful young Greek girl; and POLYDOR, a wealthy, miserly old widower, who wishes to contract for the hand of PARTHENIA.

SCENE: Massilia, the market-place, in front of an archway which crosses the back of the stage. In the foreground, on the right, MYRON's and another house; a spinning-wheel and basket in front of MYRON's house. Opposite to it the house of POLYDOR.

Enter ACTEA, from the House.

Act. The Sun is nearly set; the city gates Will quickly close, yet Myron comes not home: Parthenia, too, wild girl! freed from her task, Flies like a bird unfetter'd from her cage. Parthenia! daughter! child!

Par.

Enter PARTHENIA.

Well, mother dear!

Act. Ah! truant, see, here lies thy work undone, And evening near.

Par.

I've spun enough to-day;

And yonder are our neighbours gathering olives;
I'll help them.

Act.
No! thou shalt remain with me;
And listen, wild one: thou hast long enough
Wasted the hours in trifling children's play,-
'Tis time to end it: so now sit thee down,
And, if thou canst, be serious for once.
Par. Yes. mother dear, I hear.

[Going.

[She seats herself listlessly at the wheel.

Act.

This Polydor is rich,

"Tis true, but rich,

Bethink thee, child, a man in years,

a widower, indeed,

But much respected, and of quality:

He asks thy hand; dost listen?

Par. [Starting.]

Yes, O, yes.

Act. Ah, so thou always say'st; yet I may speak, Talk by the hour, while all thy busy thoughts

Wander through fields and woods, as thou thyself,

Chasing the butterflies; but now 'tis time,

Though with spring blood, to think of coming Autumn. "Tis time to think of marriage; yet already

Thou hast rejected Medon.

Par. [Coming forward.] O! he was old, Gray-headed, gouty, coarse,

Act.

Evander, then.

Par. Evander! Yes, he had a fox's cunning, With a hyæna's heart, and monkey's form.

Act. Mad, foolish girl! go, trample down thy fortune, Until repentance comes too late! Thou think'st Thyself unequall'd, doubtless; lovely, rich.

Par. Young am I, mother; joyous, happy, too.

[Embracing her.

And you, you love me! what can I wish more?
Yes, you do love me!

Act.

Love thee! ay, and well

Dost thou deserve our love!

Why do I fold thee thus within my arms?

We love thee, but thou lovest us not.

Par. Not love thee, mother?

Act.

No; or, as our will,

So would thine own be: thou wouldst let us choose

Thy husband.

Par.

No, dear mother, no, not him.

Act. What dost thou hope for, then? Perhaps thou think'st The Man-i'-the-moon would be thy fitting spouse: What wait'st thou for, I say?

Par. I'll tell thee, mother: I was but a child, And yet I mark'd it well; you sang to me

Of Hero and Leander, and their love;

And when I ask'd thee, wondering, what love was,
Then, with uplifted hands and laughing eyes,
Thou told'st me how, into the lonely heart

Love sudden comes unsought, then grows and grows,
Feeble at first, like dawn before the Sun,
Till, bursting every bond, it breaks at last
Upon the startled soul with hope and joy,
While every bounding pulse cries, "That is he
Who carries in his breast my heart, my soul:
With him, O, may I live, and with him die!"
So, when old Medon and Evander came
To woo, I laid my hand upon my heart,
And listen'd, listen'd, but, no! all was still,
All silent; no response, no voice; and so
I'm waiting, mother, till my heart shall speak!

Act. [Aside.] Good gods! 'tis thus we let our old tongues prattle,

While young ears listen.

'Tis that thou waitest for,

So, thou foolish child,

thy heart must speak!

I prattled nonsense, a child's tale, a dream!

I tell thee, there's no second will come to thee
Like Polydor, so rich, so honourable.

Par. Honourable!

Beats down my needy father in his wares,

Higgles and bargains.

Act.

That thou understandest not.

He is a careful and a saving merchant:

Think, think, my child, say yes, for my sake, do;
Say yes, my

child.

Par. Hold, mother: I will never wander more

Through woods and fields; like other girls, will spin,

Will work, will read thy wishes in thine eyes;

But him, that Polydor, I cannot, will not-
No, never, never!