Part 2 (1/2)
SMITH. Now, gallant cavalier adventurers, On this our landing spot we'll rear a town Shall bear our good king's name to after-time, And yours along with it; for ye are men Well worth the handing down; whose paged names Will not disgrace posterity to read: Men born for acts of hardihood and valour, Whose stirring spirits scorn'd to lie inert, Base atoms in the ma.s.s of population That rots in stagnant Europe. Ye are men Who a high wealth and fame will bravely win, And wear full worthily. I still shall be The foremost in all troubles, toil, and danger, Your leader and your captain, nought exacting Save strict obedience to the watchful care Which points to your own good: be wary then, And let not any mutinous hand unravel Our close knit compact. Union is its strength: Be that remember'd ever. Gallant gentlemen, We have a n.o.ble stage, on which to act A n.o.ble drama; let us then sustain Our sev'ral parts with credit and with honour.
Now, st.u.r.dy comrades, cheerly to our tasks!
[_Exeunt SMITH, ROLFE, &c._
Scene II. _A grove._
_Enter WALTER and LARRY._
LARRY. Now by the black eyes of my Katy, but that master of yours and captain of mine is a prince!
WALTER. Tut, you hav'n't seen an inch yet of the whole hero. Had you followed him as I have, from a knee-high urchin, you'd confess that there never was soldier fit to cry comrade to him. O! 'twould have made your blood frisk in your veins to have seen him in Turkey and Tartary, when he made the clumsy infidels dance to the music of his broad sword!
LARRY. Troth now, the mussulmans may have been mightily amused by the caper; but for my part I should modestly prefer skipping to the simple jig of an Irish bag-pipe.
WALTER. Then he had the prettiest mode of forming their manners--
LARRY. Arrah, how might that be?
WALTER. For example: whenever they were so ill-bred as to appear with their turbans on before him, he uses me this keen argument to convince them they shewed discourtesy. He whips me out his sword, and knocks their turbans off--
LARRY. Knocks their turbans off?
WALTER. Aye, egad, and their heads to boot.
LARRY. A dev'lish cutting way of reasoning indeed; that argument cou'dn't be answered asily.
WALTER. Devil a tongue ever wagg'd in replication, Larry.--Ah! my fairy of felicity--my mouthful of melody--my wife--
_Enter ALICE._
Well, Alice, we are now in the wilds of Virginia, and, tell me truly, doesn't repent following me over the ocean, wench? wilt be content in these wild woods, with only a little husband, and a great deal of love, pretty Alice?
ALICE. Can you ask that? are not all places alike if you are with me, Walter?
_Song._--ALICE.
In this wild wood will I range; Listen, listen, dear!
Nor sigh for towns so fine, to change This forest drear.
Toils and dangers I'll despise, Never, never weary; And be, while love is in thine eyes, Ever cheery.
Ah! what to me were cities gay; Listen, listen, dear!
If from me thou wert away, Alas! how drear!
Oh! still o'er sea, o'er land I'll rove, Never, never weary; And follow on where leads my love, Ever cheery.
LARRY. Och! the creature!
WALTER. Let my lips tell thee what my tongue cannot.
[_Kiss._