He's right that does say something: that's bare truth. Ten-twelve, I make a perilous dropping-off!

Gui. Pooh-is it audience-hour?

The vestibule

Swarms too, I wager, with the common sort

That want our privilege of entry here.

Gau. Adolf! [Re-enter ADOLF.] Who's outside?
Gui.
Oh, your looks suffice!

Nobody waiting?

Mau. [Looking through the door-folds.] Scarce our

number!

Gui.

Nothing to beg for, to complain about?

'Sdeath!

It can't be ! Ill news spreads, but not so fast
As thus to frighten all the world!

Gau.

The world

Lives out of doors, sir-not with you and me
By presence-chamber porches, state-room stairs,
Wherever warmth's perpetual: outside's free
To every wind from every compass-point,
And who may get nipped needs be weather-wise.
The Prince comes and the lady's People go;
The snow-goose settles down, the swallows flee-
Why should they wait for winter-time? 'Tis instinct;
Don't you feel somewhat chilly?

Gui.

That's their craft?

And last year's crowders-round and criers-forth,
That strewed the garlands, overarched the roads.
Lit up the bonfires, sang the loyal songs!
Well, 'tis my comfort, you could never call me

The People's Friend! The People keep their wordI keep my place: don't doubt I'll entertain

The People when the Prince comes, and the People
Are talked of!-Then, their speeches-no one tongue
Found respite, not a pen had holiday

-For they wrote, too, as well as spoke, these knaves!
Now see: we tax and tithe them, pill and poll,
They wince and fret enough, but pay they must
-We manage that,—so pay with a good grace
They might as well, it costs so little more.
But when we've done with taxes, meet folk next
Outside the toll-booth and the rating-place,
In public there they have us if they will,
We're at their mercy after that, you see-
For one tax not ten devils could extort;
Over and above necessity, a grace;
This prompt disbosoming of love, to wit-
Their vine-leaf-wrappage of our tribute-penny,
And crowning attestation, all works well-
Yet this precisely do they thrust on us!
These cappings quick, and crook-and-cringings low,
Hand to the heart, and forehead to the knee,
With grin that shuts the eyes and opes the mouth-
So tender they their love; and tender made,
Go home to curse you, the first doit
As if their souls were any longer theirs!
As if they had not given ample warrant
To who should clap a collar on their neck,
Rings in their nose, a goad to either flank,

you

ask;

And take them for the brute they boast themselves!
-Stay-there's a bustle at the outer door-

And somebody entreating... that's my name!
Adolf,—I heard my name!

-And the great fool! Just ope the mid-door's fold-
Is that a lappet of his cloak, I see?

Adolf. If it bear plenteous signs of travel... ay,
cloak my comrades tore!

The very

Gui.

Why tore!

Adolf. He seeks the Duchess' presence in that trim: Since daybreak, was he posted hereabouts

Lest he should miss the moment.

Gui.

Where's he now?

Adolf. Gone for a minute possibly, not more.

They have ado enough to thrust him back.

Oh, sir-he said

Gui. Ay-but my name, I caught? Adolf. -What was it?-You had known him formerly, And, he believed, would help him did you guess He waited now-you promised him as much— The old plea!-'Faith, he's back,—renews the charge! [Speaking at the door.] So long as the man parleys, peace outside!

Nor be too ready with your halberts, there!

Gau. My horse bespattered, as he blocked the path, A thin sour man not unlike somebody.

Adolf. He holds a paper in his breast, whereon
He glances when his cheeks flush and his brow
At each repulse-

Gau.

I noticed he'd a brow.

Adolf. So glancing, he grows calmer, leans awhile Over the balustrade, adjusts his dress,

And presently turns round, quiet again, With some new pretext for admittance.-Back! [To GUIBERT.]-Sir, he has seen you! Now cross halberts! Ha

Pascal is prostrate-there lies Fabian too

No passage! Whither would the madman press?
Close the doors quick on me!

Gui.

Too late-he's here.

Enter, hastily and with discomposed dress, VALENCE.

Val. Sir Guibert, will you help me?-Me, that come Charged by your townsmen, all who starve at Cleves, To represent their heights and depths of woe Before our Duchess and obtain relief! Such errands barricade such doors, it seems:

But not a common hindrance drives me back

On all the sad yet hopeful faces, lit

With hope for the first time, which sent me forth!

Cleves, speak for me! Cleves' men and women, speak—

Who followed me—your strongest-many a mile

That I might go the fresher from their ranks,

-Who sit-your weakest-by the city-gates,

To take me fuller of what news I bring
As I return-for I must needs return!

-Can I? 'Twere hard, no listener for their wrongs, To turn them back upon the old despair—

Harder, Sir Guibert, than imploring thus

So I do any way you please-implore!

If you.

but how should you remember Cleves?

Yet they of Cleves remember you so well!

-Ay, comment on each trait of you they keep,
Your words and deeds caught up at second hand,—
Proud, I believe, at bottom of their hearts.

Of the very levity and recklessness

Which only prove that you forget their wrongs.
Cleves, the grand town, whose men and women starve.
Is Cleves forgotten?—Then remember me!

You promised me that you would help me once
For other purpose: will you keep your word?
Gui. And who may you be, friend?

Val.

Valence of Cleves.

Gui. Valence of... not the Advocate of Cleves

I owed my whole estate to, three years back?
Ay, well may you keep silence! Why my lords,
You've heard, I'm sure, how, Pentecost three years,
I was so nearly ousted of my

land

By some knaves' pretext,-(eh? when you refused me
Your ugly daughter, Clugnet,)—and you've heard
How I recovered it by miracle

-(When I refused her)! Here's the very friend,

-Valence of Cleves, all parties have to thank!