Eliz. But was she holy?--Died she in the Lord?
Isen [weeps]. O God! my child! And if I told thee all,
How couldst thou mend it?
Eliz. Mend it? O my Saviour!
I'd die a saint!
Win heaven for her by prayers, and build great minsters,
Chantries, and hospitals for her; wipe out
By mighty deeds our race's guilt and shame--
But thus, poor witless orphan! [Weeps.]
[Count Walter enters.]
Wal. Ah! my princess! accept your liegeman's knee;
Down, down, rheumatic flesh!
Eliz. Ah! Count Walter! you are too tall to kneel to little girls.
Wal. What? shall two hundredweight of hypocrisy bow down to his
four-inch wooden saint, and the same weight of honesty not worship
his four-foot live one? And I have a jest for you, shall make my
small queen merry and wise.
Isen. You shall jest long before she's merry.
Wal. Ah! dowers and dowagers again! The money--root of all evil.
What comes here? [A Page enters.]
A long-winged grasshopper, all gold, green, and gauze? How these
young pea-chicks must needs ape the grown peacock's frippery!
Prithee, now, how many such butterflies as you suck here together on
the thistle-head of royalty?
Page.
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