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Article THE PRODIGAL'S BRIDE. Page 1 of 3 →
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The Prodigal's Bride.
THE PRODIGAL'S BRIDE .
BY DOUGLAS JEItltOIiD . [ FROM AM UXPOBLTSHED PLAY . ] SCENE—Interior of Everingham s Cottage . E VERINGHAM and AI . ICH discovered . Everingham . What would he here ? Hath he not done enough ?
Or comes the coward libertine to mark How the despis'd , the cast-off maiden , wears The willow-wreath that on her bridal-morn , He nobly sent her ? Is it not enough That he hath made your name—ancl I am blind !—Your spotless name the common talk and jest
Of the whole country round ? No market-place , But there shall hinds and milk-girls tell the tale Of the cast maid , lone Alice Everingham ? Then will they laugh and sneer , and some may cry The youth found wisdom , tho' he found it late . And for her father , what is left to him ?
To sit in darkness , and to hear the sigh That will escape , tho' many die unbreath'd;—To know that daily tears despoil a cheek Where the soul ' s sunshine constant beam'd ;—to feel The wasting hand , or—worse than all—to hear In some old song , a kind deceit of mirth ,
Hollow and joyless , singing still of joy . [_ MALPAS is seen to pass the Cottage-window . Alice . George!—George ! Ever . 'Tis he ! My blood leaps at his footstep ! I never felt the loss of eves till now .
Enter MALPAS . Malpas . Sir—Alice . Ever . Sir , I cannot see your face , But sure , beneath this roof you need must blush . AVhat would you with us , sir ? Your messenger Perform'd his charge—deliver'd , sir , your letter .
What would you further ? Mai . What that letter begg'd , A parting word with Alice Everingham . Ever . Here she stands ; and if in your condition
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Prodigal's Bride.
THE PRODIGAL'S BRIDE .
BY DOUGLAS JEItltOIiD . [ FROM AM UXPOBLTSHED PLAY . ] SCENE—Interior of Everingham s Cottage . E VERINGHAM and AI . ICH discovered . Everingham . What would he here ? Hath he not done enough ?
Or comes the coward libertine to mark How the despis'd , the cast-off maiden , wears The willow-wreath that on her bridal-morn , He nobly sent her ? Is it not enough That he hath made your name—ancl I am blind !—Your spotless name the common talk and jest
Of the whole country round ? No market-place , But there shall hinds and milk-girls tell the tale Of the cast maid , lone Alice Everingham ? Then will they laugh and sneer , and some may cry The youth found wisdom , tho' he found it late . And for her father , what is left to him ?
To sit in darkness , and to hear the sigh That will escape , tho' many die unbreath'd;—To know that daily tears despoil a cheek Where the soul ' s sunshine constant beam'd ;—to feel The wasting hand , or—worse than all—to hear In some old song , a kind deceit of mirth ,
Hollow and joyless , singing still of joy . [_ MALPAS is seen to pass the Cottage-window . Alice . George!—George ! Ever . 'Tis he ! My blood leaps at his footstep ! I never felt the loss of eves till now .
Enter MALPAS . Malpas . Sir—Alice . Ever . Sir , I cannot see your face , But sure , beneath this roof you need must blush . AVhat would you with us , sir ? Your messenger Perform'd his charge—deliver'd , sir , your letter .
What would you further ? Mai . What that letter begg'd , A parting word with Alice Everingham . Ever . Here she stands ; and if in your condition