to cheer 405My gloomy hearth; then was it this, I say, Thy foolish wicked lies, torturing thus Her tender infant brain? I say, for shame! In good time I rescued her from thy hands. Rod. I'm sure my lord, I've always sought to— D. Sil. Hush! And give me no more of thy silly prate, I've some affairs on hand, and must away, O'er long thou hast detained me with thy cant. Here, take this note, bid Pedro start at once And bear this safely to my daughter there, For to-night at the hostel he must sleep, To-morrow early he must start towards home, Accompanying my daughter by the way. [Going. Rod. My lord, I'll see to't. D. Sil. And hark! Rodriguez, There's one thing I would caution you against. Rod. And that is, my lord? D. Sil. And that is, I say, That when my daughter home arrives to-morrow, You fill not her head with foolish stories And antiquated superstitions. Above all, talk to her not of gallants, Of tournaments, elopements, serenades, Or anecdotes of thine own frivolous life. Rod. My lord! my lord! D. Sil. Once for all, I repeat, 406Detail not all the follies of thy youth; Talk to her not of dress or finery, Nor all the gilded pageantries of courts, Or such like vanities; and now, adieu, I must go hence. Think well of what I've said. [Exit. Rod. (Alone.) Poor, poor gentleman, I fear he's going; He's growing old now, is my poor master, And folks when they grow old are ever childish. He ne'er has been the same since the departure Of my poor mistress, Lady Dorothea. What said he about my frivolous life? Who can cast a stone at Dame Rodriguez? Oh, his head's gone; that's very clear, alas! My life! 'Twere well he thought about his own, Spent here mid dusty books and parchments old, With dirty bottles and queer instruments. As no one ever saw the like before. What he does with them, who can understand? Shut up here like a hermit all day long. A plague on him, and all his crotchety ways! Wait till my mistress Inez doth return; She will enliven him, and 'twixt us two, We'll make a clearance of this dusty cell. "Talk to her not of dress!" Poor silly man! Why, how on earth is the poor child to know, Shut up these five years in those convent walls, 407Of all the latest fashions of the day? How should she dress herself without the aid Of old Rodriguez? See how these men are. Do we live in a world or do we not? I should not do my duty to his child Were I to listen to him. No I must, The instant she arrives, take her in hand. "Talk to her not of gallants!" Why, forsooth? Must the poor child see no society? Is this hall a convent or a desert? Was she not born to marry and to mix With other ladies of her state and rank? How should she find a husband without me? She's growing up now, and has no mother, And as for her poor father, he'd as soon
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