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THE SPAGNOLETTO.
RIBERA.
Darling, no more than what I always will.
Before I enter mine own world removed,
I fain would greet the dearest work of God.
I missed you when I rose. I sought you first
In your own chamber, where the lattice, oped,
Let in the morning splendor and the smells
Of the moist garden, with the sound of voices.
I looked, I found you here but not alone.
What man was that went from you?
MARIA.
Your disciple,
My lord Lorenzo. You remember, father,
How yester-morn I pleaded for his work;
Thus he, through gratitude and love, hath watched
All night within our garden, while I danced;
And when I came to nurse my flowers he spake.
RIBERA.
And you?
MARIA.
Am I not still beside you, father?
I will not leave you.
