Lydia. Wast thou a monarch,
Me wouldst thou make thy queen?
Wal. I would.
Lydia. What! Pass
A princess by for me?
Wal. I would.
Lydia. Suppose
Thy subjects would prevent thee?
Wal. Then, in spite
Of them!
Lydia. Suppose they were too strong for thee?
Wal. Why, then I'd give them up my throne--content
With that thou'dst yield me in thy gentle breast.
Lydia. Can subjects do what monarchs do?
Wal. Far more!
Far less!
Lydia. Among those things, where more their power,
Is marriage one?
Wal. Yes.
Lydia. And no part of love,
You say, is rank or wealth?
Wal. No part of love.
Lydia. Is marriage part of love?
Wal. At times it is,
At times is not. Men love and marry--love
And marry not.
Lydia. Then have they not the power;
So must they hapless part with those they love.
Wal. Oh, no! not part! How could they love and part?
Lydia. How could they love not part, not free to wed?
Wal. Alone in marriage doth not union lie!
Lydia. Alone where hands are free! O yes--alone!
Love that is love, bestoweth all it can!
It is protection, if 'tis anything,
Which nothing in its object leaves exposed
Its care can shelter. Love that's free to wed,
Not wedding, but profanes the name of love;
Which is, on high authority to Earth's,
For Heaven did sit approving at its feast,
A holy thing! Why make you love to me?
Women whose hearts are free, by nature tender,
Their fancies hit by those they are besought by,
Do first impressions quickly--deeply take;
And, balked in their election, have been known
To droop a whole life through! Gain for a maid,
A broken heart!--to barter her young love,
And find she changed it for a counterfeit!
Wal.
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