Brummell, I come from Lord Ballarat.

BRUM. Well--be it so. Ballarat--mind--when you return to England let
them know that, even in this squalor--to his last hour in the
world--Brummell--poor Brummell was a gentleman still. I am ready--I am
ready.

[_Exit_ FOTHERBY, _leading_ BRUMMELL, _the_ NURSE _following_.

THE SET OF TURQUOISE

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH

ACT I, SCENE I

CHARACTERS: Count of Lara, a poor nobleman; Beatrice, his wife
Miriam, a maid, who personates a page.

SCENE: Count of Lara's villa. A balcony overlooking the garden.

LARA. The third moon of our marriage, Beatrice!
It hangs in the still twilight, large and full,
Like a ripe orange.

BEATRICE. Like an orange? yes,
But not so red, Count. Then it has no stem.
Now, as 'tis hidden by those drifts of cloud,
With one thin edge just glimmering through the dark,
'Tis like some strange, rich jewel of the east,
In the cleft side of a mountain.
And that reminds me--speaking of jewels--love,
There is a set of turquoise at Malan's,
Ear-drops and bracelets and a necklace--ah!
If they were mine.

LARA. And so they should be, dear,
Were I Aladdin, and had slaves o' the lamp
To fetch me ingots. Why, then, Beatrice,
All Persia's turquoise-quarries should be yours,
Although your hand is heavy now with gems
That tear my lips when I would kiss its whiteness.
Oh! so you pout! Why make that full-blown rose
Into a bud again?

BEATRICE. You love me not.

LARA. A coquette's song.

BEATRICE. I sing it.

LARA. A poor song.

BEATRICE. You love me not, or love me over-much,
Which makes you jealous of the gems I wear!
You do not deck me as becomes our state,
For fear my grandeur should besiege the eyes
Of Monte, Clari, Marcus, and the rest--
A precious set! You're jealous, sir!

LARA. Not I.
I love you.

BEATRICE. Why, that is as easy said
As any three short words; takes no more breath
To say, "I hate you." What, sir, have I lived
Three times four weeks your wedded loyal wife,
And d