tapestry which shows
The needle like the pencil glows with life;

[Brings down chairs--they sit.]

The story's of a page who loved the dame
He served--a princess!--Love's a heedless thing!
That never takes account of obstacles;
Makes plains of mountains, rivulets of seas,
That part it from its wish. So proved the page,
Who from a state so lowly, looked so high,--
But love's a greater lackwit still than this.
Say it aspires--that's gain! Love stoops--that's loss!
You know what comes. The princess loved the page.
Shall I go on, or here leave off?

_Julia_. Go on.

_Wal_. Each side of the chamber shows a different stage
Of this fond page, and fonder lady's love. {2}
First--no, it is not that.

_Julia_. Oh, recollect!

_Wal_. And yet it is.

_Julia_. No doubt it is. What is 't?

_Wal_. He holds to her a salver, with a cup;
His cheeks more mantling with his passion than
The cup with the ruby wine. She heeds him not,
For too great heed of him:--but seems to hold
Debate betwixt her passion and her pride--
That's like to lose the day. You read it in
Her vacant eye, knit brow, and parted lips,
Which speak a heart too busy all within
To note what's done without. Like you the tale?

_Julia_. I list to every word.

_Wal_. The next side paints
The page upon his knee. He has told his tale;
And found that when he lost his heart, he played
No losing game: but won a richer one!
There may you read in him, how love would seem
Most humble when most bold,--you question which
Appears to kiss her hand--his breath, or lips!
In her you read how wholly lost is she
Who trusts her heart to love. Shall I give o'er?

_Julia_. Nay, tell it to the end. Is't melancholy?

_Wal_. To answer that, would mar the story.

_Julia_. Right.

_Wal_. The third side now we come to.

_Julia_. What shows that?

_Wal_. The page and princess still. But stands her sire
Between them. Stern he grasps his daughter's arm,
Whose eyes like fountains play; while through her tears
Her passion shines, as through the fountain drops
The sun! His minions crowd around the page!
They drag him to a dungeon.

_Julia_. Hapless youth!

_Wal_. Hapless indeed, that's twice a captive! heart
And body both in bonds. But that's the chain,
Which balance cannot weigh, rule measure, touch
Define the texture of, or eye detect,
That's forged by the subtle craft of love!
No need to tell you that he wears it. Such
The cunning of the