hand that plied the loom,
You've but to mark the straining of his eye,
To feel the coil yourself!

_Julia_. I feel't without!
You've finished with the third side; now the fourth!

_Wal_. It brings us to a dungeon, then.

_Julia_. The page,
The thrall of love, more than the dungeon's thrall,
Is there?

_Wal_. He is. He lies in fetters.

_Julia_. Hard!
Hard as the steel, the hands that put them on.

_Wal_. Some one unrivets them!

_Julia_. The princess? 'Tis!

_Wal_. It is another page.

_Julia_. It is herself!

_Wal_. Her skin is fair; and his is berry-brown.
His locks are raven black; and hers are gold.

_Julia_. Love's cunning of disguises! spite of locks,
Skin, vesture,--it is she, and only she
What will not constant woman do for love
That's loved with constancy! Set her the task,
Virtue approving, that will baffle her!
O'ertax her stooping, patience, courage, wit!
My life upon it, 'tis the princess' self,
Transformed into a page!

_Wal_. The dungeon door
Stands open, and you see beyond--

_Julia_. Her father!

_Wal_. No; a steed.

_Julia_. [Starting up.] O, welcome steed,
My heart bounds at the thought of thee! Thou comest
To bear the page from bonds to liberty.
What else?

_Wal_. [Rising.] The story's told.

_Julia_. Too briefly told;
O happy princess, that had wealth and state
To lay them down for love! Whose constant love
Appearances approved, not falsified!
A winner in thy loss, as well as gain.

_Wal_. Weighs love so much?

_Julia_. What would you weigh 'gainst love
That's true? Tell me with what you'd turn the scale?
Yea, make the index waver? Wealth? A feather!
Rank? Tinsel against bullion in the balance!
The love of kindred? That to set 'gainst love!
Friendship comes nearest to't; but put it in,
Friendship will kick the beam!--weigh nothing 'gainst it!
Weigh love against the world!
Yet are they happy that have naught to say to it.

_Wal_. And such a one art thou. Who wisely wed,
Wed happily. The love thou speak'st of,
A flower is only, that its season has,
Which they must look to see the withering of,
Who pleasure in its budding and its bloom!
But wisdom is the constant evergreen
Which lives the whole year through! Be that, your flower!

[Enter a Servant.]

Well?

_Serv_. My lord's secretary is without.
He brings a letter for her ladyship,
And craves admittance to her.

_Wal_. Show him in.

_Julia_. No.

_Wal_. Thou m