The Knight: Noble Herald, Love hath every part within me and without, thus
I, from Love apart, have no part, and my love no part apart from my every
part; wherefore, for my part, and on my part, ne'er will I with Love part
for thy part and this to thee do I impart--
“Sweet Saints aid us!” The Chief Herald clasped his massy brow and gazed
with eye distraught. “Sir Knight--messire--my very good and noble Lord of
Tong--I grope! Here is that which hath a seeming ... thy so many parts
portend somewhat ... and yet ... I excogitate ... yet grope I still ...
impart, part ... thy part and its part ... so many parts ... and roses ...
and songs o' love ... a lute! O, thundering Mars, I ... Sound, trumpets!”
But the Duchess up-starting, silenced Herald and trumpeters with imperious
hand.
“Sir Knight of Tong,” said she, “'tis told thou'rt of nimble tongue and a
maker of songs, so we bid thee sing if thy song be of Love--for Love is
a thing little known and seldom understood these days. Here be very many
noble knights wondrous learned in the smiting of buffets, but little else;
here be noble dames very apt at the play of eyes, the twining of fingers,
the languishment of sighs, that, seeking True-love, find but its shadow;
and here also grey beards that have forgot the very name of Love. So we bid
thee sing us of Love--True-love, what it is. Our ears attend thee!”
“Gracious lady,” answered the Knight, “gladly do I obey. But Love is
mighty and I lowly, and may speak of Love but from mine own humility. And
though much might be said of Love since Love's empire is the universe and
Love immortal, yet will I strive to portray this mighty thing that is
True-love in few, poor words.”
Then, plucking sweet melody from his lute, the Knight sang as here
followeth:
“What is Love? 'Tis this, I say,
Flower that springeth in a day
Ne'er to die or fade away
Since True-love dieth never.
“Though youth, alas! too soon shall wane,
Though friend prove false and effort vain,
True-love all changeless doth remain
The same to-day and ever.”
Now while the clarions rang out proclaiming Sir Palamon's defiance,
Benedicta looked on Yolande and Yolande on Benedicta:
“O, wonderful!” cried the Duchess. “My Lord of Tong hath found him manhood
and therewith a wisdom beyond most and singeth such love as methought only
angels knew and maids might vision in their dreams. Ah, Yolande--that
such a love could be ... e'en though he went ragged and poor in all but
love....”
“Benedicta,” sighed Yolande, hands clasped on swelling bosom, “O Benedicta,
here is no foolish Lord of Tong ... and yet ... O, I am mad!”
“Why, then, 'tis sweet madness! So, my Yolande, let us be mad awhile
together ... thou--a Fool ... and I--a beggar-rogue!”
“Nay--alas, dear Benedicta! This were shame--”
“And forsooth is it shame doth swell thy heart, Yolande, light the glamour
in thine eyes and set thee a-tremble--e'en as I? Nay indeed, thou'rt
a-thrill with Folly ... and I, with Roguery. Loved Folly! Sweet Roguery! O
Yolande, let us fly from empty state, from this mockery of life and
learn the sweet joys of ... of beggary, and, crowned with poverty, clasp
life--”
MYSELF, myself interrupting:
By the way, my dear, you'll understand,
Though this is very fine,
Still, her Grace's counsel to Yolande
Must not be in your line!
Not that I'd have you wed for wealth,
Or many a beggar-man by stealth,
But I would have you, if you can--
GILL: Marry some strong, stern, silent man,
Named Mark, and with hair slightly gray by the ears!
Now he's just the sort who would bore me to tears.
If I for a husband feel ever inclined,
I shall choose quite an ordin'ry husband--the kind
With plenty of money and nothing to do,
With a nice, comfy house, and a motor or two--
MYSELF: That's all very fine, miss, but what would you do
If he, by some ill-chance, quite penniless grew?
GILL: Oh, why then--why, of course,
I should get a divorce--