Are curious? That they're patient, I'll be sworn;
And reasonable--very reasonable--
To look for twenty answers in a breath!
Come, thou shalt be enlightened--but propound
Thy questions one by one! Thou'rt far too apt
A scholar! My ability to teach
Will ne'er keep pace, I fear, with thine to learn.

[They go out.]

SCENE III.--An Apartment in the House.

[Enter JULIA, followed by CLIFFORD.]

_Julia_. No more! I pray you, sir, no more!

_Clif_. I love you!

_Julia_. You mock me, sir!

_Clif_. Then is there no such thing
On earth as reverence; honour filial, the fear
Of kings, the awe of supreme heaven itself,
Are only shows and sounds that stand for nothing.
I love you!

_Julia_. You have known me scarce a minute!

_Clif_. Say but a moment, still I say I love you!
Love's not a flower that grows on the dull earth;
Springs by the calendar; must wait for the sun--
For rain;--matures by parts;--must take its time
To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns
A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed!
You look for it, and see it not; and lo!
E'en while you look, the peerless flower is up.
Consummate in the birth!

_Julia_. Is't fear I feel?
Why else should beat my heart? It can't be fear!
Something I needs must say. You're from the town;
How comes it, sir, you seek a country wife?
Methinks 'twill tax his wit to answer that.

_Clif_. In joining contrasts lieth love's delight.
Complexion, stature, nature, mateth it,
Not with their kinds, but with their opposites.
Hence hands of snow in palms of russet lie;
The form of Hercules affects the sylph's;
And breasts, that case the lion's fear-proof heart,
Find their meet lodge in arms where tremors dwell!
Haply for this, on Afric's swarthy neck,
Hath Europe's priceless pearl been seen to hang,
That makes the orient poor! So with degrees,
Rank passes by the circlet-graced brow,
Upon the forehead, bare, of notelessness
To print the nuptial kiss. As with degrees
So is't with habits; therefore I, indeed
A gallant of the town, the town forsake,
To win a country wife.

_Julia_. His prompt reply
My backward challenge shames! Must I give o'er?
I'll try his wit again. Who marries me
Must lead a country life.

_Clif_. The life I'd lead!
But fools would fly from it; for O! 'tis sweet!
It finds the heart out, be there one to find;
And corners in't where store of pleasures lodge,
We never dreamed were there! It is to dwell
'Mid smiles that are