Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/170

Bas.'Tis passing beautiful
To see the sun-beams on the foliage play,
(In a soft voice.)
And tinge the scaled bark with ruddy brown.

Vict. And here I've stood full often, and admir'd
The graceful bending, o'er that shady pool,
Of yon green willow, whose fair sweepy boughs
So kiss their image on the glassy plain,
And bathe their leafy tresses in the stream.

Bas. And I too love to see its drooping boughs
So kiss their image on the glassy plain,
And bathe their leafy tresses in the stream.

Vict. My lord, it is uncivil in you thus
My very words with mock'ry to repeat.

Bas. Nay, pardon me, did I indeed repeat?
I meant it not; but when I hear thee speak,
So sweetly dwells thy voice upon mine ear,
My tongue e'en unawares assumes the tone;
As mothers on their lisping infants gaze,
And catch their broken words. I pri'thee pardon!

Vict. But we must leave this grove, the birds fly low,
This should forbode a storm, and yet o'erhead
The sky, bespread with little downy clouds
Of purest white, would seem to promise peace.
How beautiful those pretty snowy clouds!

Bas. Of a most dazzling brightness!

Vict. Nay, nay, a veil that tempers heaven's brightness,
Of softest, purest white.