Ricardo.

My lady. The culprit is discovered.

D. Ah, Ricardo! I had forgot ... was this thy plan? ... if so I cannot praise thy skill sufficiently. All hath gone well. And since no doubt thou hast served Thy master and his friend in all thou hast done, And under the pretence of aiding me Hast been the ready man, more than another, To practise on me, and do me injury; I’ll school my patience till I have satisfied My curiosity to know what thought Urged thee,—whom I confess I wholly trusted, And whom I thought to have made my friend,—that thus Against the laws of hospitality, Without the excuse of passion, thou shouldst wrong A lady so unkindly.

R. Ah, Diana! Hast thou not guessed my secret?

D. By heaven, sir, Did the Duke send thee here to insult me too?

R. Dearest Diana, I am the Duke of Milan.

D. Ha! thou! Thy face behind the bush. ’Tis thou. Should I have known it? No. I can thank God I knew it so little. By help tho’of thy acts I recognize your grace. ’Tis like thee indeed, That hast not scrupled thus to steal upon me Masked and disguised; by forgery and falsehood, Written recommendations of thyself, Making thee out to be some gentleman Of trust and honour. Oh ’tis admirable, The use thou makest of thy rank, to creep Into my secresy, thereby to assist Thy friend, my secretary, to elope With an orphan and my ward. Haste, haste! I bid thee; Lest thou be late for the feast. Bear them from me My glad congratulations. (sinks on a chair.)

R. (running to her). Diana! Diana!

D. I need no aid from thee, sir. Nay, begone!

R. In kindness hear what I came here to say. In justice hear my answer to the charges Thou hast made. But first I claim my promise.

D. How! What promise, sir?

R. Your secretary’s place If Frederick left.

D. Make you me still your jest?

R. O dearest Diana, think not that I jest. I’d be thy secretary all my life, So I might only take the place which Frederick Held in thy affections.

D. (rising). In my affections! why, What means your grace, I beg?

R. Diana, Diana! Have I not won thee? Did I not obey thee By silence and long absence, till my life Grew desperate, and my misery made me bold To come to thee disguised? I thought that thou Perchance wert adverse to my suit for thinking I loved thee only for thy beauty’s sake,— Since at first sight I loved and only sight,— And for thy mind’s grace thou wert rightly jealous Of such a passion. Now, if I guess well, I have won some favour in these happy days....

D. Favour!

R. And if thou hast dreamed thou hast loved another, ’Tis no impediment: for first this man, Whom thou hast honoured is my nearest friend; And not to have loved him were to have disregarded The only part of me thou ever knewest. But him, for very lack of loving rightly Thou hast much mistaken and wronged, and, as I think, Now for misunderstanding bearest ill-will.

D. I bear him no ill-will, your grace.

R. Nor me?

D. But what you have done?

R. Love can excuse me all. What woman judges by proprieties The man who would die for her, and who without her Regards not life? Passion atones my fault.

D. Your only excuse is your offence.

R. ’Tis thus: If I am not pardoned, I am not loved; but if I am loved, I am pardoned. If thou sayst to me I never knew thee, but I know thee now, And like thee not: thy three years’love for me I count for nothing, thy devotion nothing, Thy misery nothing: thy adventure here I set against thee; and the hour thou goest I shall lose nothing: If thou canst say this, Speak ... and I promise To turn away for ever. Is that thy mind?

D. Is’t possible?

R. What possible?

D. Thy-—-truth.

R. My love? Nay, love’s a miracle, a thing That cannot be where it seems possible, And where ’tis most incredible is most worth Our credit.

D. That is true.

R. That thou didst doubt Was worthy of the greatness of my love. But now I claim thy faith. Thou mayst believe, Thou must believe. Indeed, indeed, Diana, Thou mayst believe. Look’st thou to find love strong? I have heavenly security:—devoted? I have no self but thee:—patient? I plead Three years of patience:—humble? I was content To be thy servant:—wise? I knew thee better Than thou thyself; I knew that thou must love: Or is love tender?—See my childish tears Crowd now to hear my sentence.

D. Ah, this were love, If it were só.

R. Diana, it is so. There is nought to-day in all the world but this, I love thee.

D. Alas! how was I wrong! Sir, sir! Thou bringst me, or at least thou seemst to bring me, The gift of God. Whether it be so or no How can I tell? ’Twould wrong it—nay I cannot Take it in haste. I cannot. I understand. Nay, leave me. I know not what to say ... your blind Attachment, is’t not cured?

R. Cure all but that By my acceptance. (kneels.) I am thy true lover, Thy only lover. Bid me rise beloved.

D. Hush, some one comes. Rise! rise!

R. Thy hand! ’tis mine, ’tis mine.

(Kisses it and rises.)

Enter St. Nicholas with Gregory. Frederick and Laura following.