UGOLINO.
13
The hook's been baited nearly half an hour,
And not a nibble.
Ang. Ha! that dress! 'tis he!
Hist! my lord Marquis!
Orsi. [Aside.] Ha! a bite at last. [Aloud in a feigned voice.
What would'st thou with me, child? I am no Marquis.
Ang. I know you well, you are my lord Serassi.
Orsi. Art sure on't?
Ang. Aye, sir, sure as you're in love,
And are beloved again.
Orsi. Indeed! by whom? [Aside.] So, so! my constant Marquis.
Ang. Listen, sir.
And not a nibble.
Ang. Ha! that dress! 'tis he!
Hist! my lord Marquis!
Orsi. [Aside.] Ha! a bite at last. [Aloud in a feigned voice.
What would'st thou with me, child? I am no Marquis.
Ang. I know you well, you are my lord Serassi.
Orsi. Art sure on't?
Ang. Aye, sir, sure as you're in love,
And are beloved again.
Orsi. Indeed! by whom? [Aside.] So, so! my constant Marquis.
Ang. Listen, sir.
Song.—Angelica.
The moon is up, and the stars shine bright,
O'er the silent sea,
And thy lady love beneath their light,
Has waited long for thee.
O, sweet the song and the lute may sound
To the lover's list’ning ear;
But wilder and faster his pulse will bound,
At the voice of his lady dear.
Then come with me where the stars shine bright,
O'er the silent sea,
And thy lady love beneath their light,
Waits alone for thee.
O'er the silent sea,
And thy lady love beneath their light,
Has waited long for thee.
O, sweet the song and the lute may sound
To the lover's list’ning ear;
But wilder and faster his pulse will bound,
At the voice of his lady dear.
Then come with me where the stars shine bright,
O'er the silent sea,
And thy lady love beneath their light,
Waits alone for thee.
Orsi. And is she handsome, stripling ? tell me that!
Angelica sings.
O, she hath left her harp and bow'r,
Tho' so dear they be,
To wander at the lonely hour,
Upon the shore with thee.
O, sweet the song, and the lute may sound,
To lover's list’ning ear;
But wilder and faster his love will bound
At the voice of his lady dear.
Then come with me where the stars shine bright,
O'er the silent sea,
And thy lady love beneath their light,
Waits alone for thee.
Tho' so dear they be,
To wander at the lonely hour,
Upon the shore with thee.
O, sweet the song, and the lute may sound,
To lover's list’ning ear;
But wilder and faster his love will bound
At the voice of his lady dear.
Then come with me where the stars shine bright,
O'er the silent sea,
And thy lady love beneath their light,
Waits alone for thee.
Orsi. This is no bad beginning, certainly.
[Aside.] What if I follow him? but then the lady
When she discovers I am not Serassi,
Why then she'll frown, and bid me quit her sight,
And beat the page, perhaps; well, that won't hurt me.
[Aloud.] An' I would be assur'd now she were handsome.
Lead on, thou warbling messenger of love,
I'll follow thee through the antipodes. [Exeunt, l, following Angelica.
[Aside.] What if I follow him? but then the lady
When she discovers I am not Serassi,
Why then she'll frown, and bid me quit her sight,
And beat the page, perhaps; well, that won't hurt me.
[Aloud.] An' I would be assur'd now she were handsome.
Lead on, thou warbling messenger of love,
I'll follow thee through the antipodes. [Exeunt, l, following Angelica.