(_Curtain rises on Richmond fair scene, set as before. The courtiers, all dressed as farmers and maid servants, are standing about._)

NO. 18a.

CHO. I can sew, sir, I can scrub, sir, I'm a good one at a tub, sir, Yes, to every sort of work My hand I turn and never shirk, etc. (_as before_).

(LADY HARRIET, NANCY _and_ PLUNKET _enter and come down front while chorus sings_. LIONEL _enters from the other side and wanders about among the booths, not looking at anything or anyone, wrapped in a deep reverie. He is plainly distraught, utterly unbalanced by the sad experience he has had._ LADY H. _and_ NAN. _are in their hunting costumes_.)

PLUN. Poor Lionel! He seems quite lost to me! He avoids me, seeks solitude, or if he does approach his fellow men he utterly ignores their presence, as now.

NANCY. Does he seem to have no moments when he knows you?

PLUN. Not so far. Ever since the Queen recognized the ring I gave her and restored him to his rightful place and name as Earl of Derby he seems to think he is no more himself. All the past is wiped away from his thought and he wanders about in a daze or dream.

LADY H. And I am the one who is to blame!

PLUN. Yes--and no. Nancy here did by me much what you did by Lionel, but it did not drive me crazy. So after all it is partly Lionel's strange nature that is to blame. He was always a queer lad, sensitive to a fault.

NAN. Did you really think I meant the girls to stick their spears into you? I was furious with them!

LADY H. It was my hope that if Lionel found himself again in the midst of this familiar scene where first we met he might recognize me and come to himself again.

NANCY. But not when you are in those clothes. This is the costume you wore when you were so cruel to him.

LADY H. That is true. I had forgotten, in my zeal to get all the rest of them ready. But here he comes. O, Lionel, don't you know me? (_He repulses her._)

NO. 19.

LIO. When I first that hand did claim, Was I not repulsed with laughter?

Did that hand not heavy chains Heap upon me, heedless after?

No, this hand which yesterday, But yesterday did drive me forth, Though today 'tis kind again Ah, to me 'tis nothing worth!

LADY H. O, he is cruel!

LIO. Love is turned to hate!

I thought her sent by heav'n to bless, To shed around her happiness; What deep and glowing ecstasy Filled all my heart When first she smiled on me!

LADY H. Oh, can these eyes, grown dim with grief, And wan with tears, seek to betray you?

Oh, doubt me not, for I am thine.

LIO. I ne'er again can call thee mine!

Dead for aye my trust in thee Hateful art thou grown to me!

(LIONEL _rushes off the stage_. LADY H. _sinks weeping into the arms of_ NANCY.)

PLUN. Courage, my lady! I see in this very frenzy a hopeful change.

His apathy and indifference were far worse. At least you waked him up. Better luck next time.

NAN. Go, my lady, and come back again in the simple little dress of Martha. When he sees you so it will call up the old memories and then--if you sing to him--surely his strange hallucination will not continue. (LADY H. _goes off_.)

PLUN. Poor la.s.s, my heart aches for her--or it would, if it were not so busy aching for itself.

NAN. Yes, it is hardest of all for you--you have loved Lord Lionel so long.

PLUN. To tell the truth I was not thinking wholly of Lionel, either!

NAN. (_demurely_). You have troubles of your own?

PLUN. You know very well what I mean!--I shall be so lonely when he leaves me to go and live on his grand estates.--Will you think of me sometimes, Miss Nancy, sitting all alone in my poor farmhouse?

NAN. Ye-es, perhaps--I don't know. I shall think how you sit and si-i-igh--like that. (_Sighs in mock-serious fashion._) Ah-h-h!

PLUN. You needn't laugh. It is a serious matter. I am very much to be pitied.

NAN. If you could only--(_hesitates_)

PLUN. What is she going to say now, the witch? (_Aside._)

NAN. If you could--couldn't you get some one to come and live with you--a friend, perhaps--or even--a wife--now! Just let your imagination work a little.

PLUN. That's so, I _might_ get somebody to marry me! That would be a good idea. I have a pretty neighbor--a farmer's daughter--

NAN. O, indeed! A farmer's daughter? A good steady girl, I've no doubt, who would always do exactly what you told her. That's an excellent idea. Marry her by all means!

PLUN. Will you dance at the wedding?

NAN. Certainly--and who with a lighter heart? Remember to send me an invitation.

PLUN. No, I won't, you little minx!

NAN. Won't invite me?

PLUN. Won't marry her.

NAN. Why not?

PLUN. I am not in love with her.

NAN. But you will find plenty of other handsome la.s.ses.

PLUN. The more I search, the less I find.

NAN. O, indeed. How unfortunate--for the girls!

PLUN. None of them suit me. You see, I had a maid once--a little serving maid--the gayest, prettiest creature--but she ran away from me--

NAN. Perhaps you were not kind to her?