does himself complacently!

_Wal_. Wouldst have me lose the hand that holds my life?

_Lydia_. Hear me and keep it, if thou art a man!
I love thee--for thy benefit would give
The labour of that hand!--wear out my feet
Rack the invention of my mind!--the powers
Of my heart in one volition gather up!
My life expend, and think no more I gave
Than he who wins a priceless gem for thanks!
For such goodwill canst thou return me wrong?

_Wal_. Yet, for awhile, I cannot let thee go.
Propound for me an oath that I'll not wrong thee!
An oath, which, if I break it, will entail
Forfeit of earth and heaven. I'll take it--so
Thou stay'st one hour with me.

_Lydia_. No!--Not one moment!
Unhand me, or I shriek!--I know the summons
Will pierce into the street, and set me free!
I stand in peril while I'm near thee! She
Who knows her danger, and delays escape,
Hath but herself to thank, whate'er befalls!
Sir, I may have a woman's weakness, but
I have a woman's resolution, too,
And that's a woman's strength!
One moment more!--

_Wal_. Lo! Thou art free to go!

[Rises and throws himself distractedly into a chair.]

[LYDIA approaches the door--her pace slackens--she pauses with her hand
upon the lock--turns, and looks earnestly on WALLER.]

_Lydia_. I have a word
To say to thee; if by thy mother's honour,
Thou swear'st to me thou wilt not quit thy seat.

_Wal_. I swear as thou propound'st to me.

_Lydia_. [After a pause, bursting into tears.] Oh, why--
Why have you used me thus? See what you've done!
Essayed to light a guilty passion up,
And kindled in its stead a holy one!
For I do love thee! Know'st thou not the wish
To find desert doth bring it oft to sight
Where yet it is not? so, for substance, passes
What only is a phantasm of our minds!
I feared thy love was guilty--yet my wish
To find it honest, stronger than my fear,
My fear with fatal triumph overthrew!
Now hope and fear give up to certainty,
And I must fly thee--yet must love thee still!

_Wal_. Lydia! by all--

_Lydia_. I pray you hear me out!
Was 't right? was 't generous? was 't pitiful?
One way or other I might be undone:
To love with sin--or love without a hope!

_Wal_. Yet hear me, Lydia!--

_Lydia_. Stop! I'm undone!
A maid without a heart--robbed of the soil,
Wherein life's hopes and wishes root and spring,
And thou the foe that did me so much hate,
And vowed me so much love!--but I forgive thee!
Yea, I do bless thee!