|
| ||
Texts
King Arthur, or The British Worthy (Act I, Scene 2) by John Dryden (1691)
David Garrick's edits (1770) in Red
EMMELINE.
O father, father, I am sure you’re here;
Because I see your voice.
ARTHUR.
No, thou mistak’st thy hearing for thy sight:
He’s gone, my Emmeline;
And I but stay to gaze on those air eyes,
Which cannot view the conquest they have made.
Oh star-like night, dark only to thyself,
But full of glory, as those lamps of heaven
That see not, when they shine.
EMMELINE.
What is this heav’n, and stars, and night, and day,
To which you thus compare my eyes and me?
I understand you when you say you love:
For, when my father clasps my hand in his,
That’s cold, and I can feel it hard and wrinkled;
But when you grasp it, then I sign, and pant,
And something smarts and tickles to my heart.
ARTHUR.
Oh, artless love! Where the soul moves the tongue.
And only nature speaks what nature thinks!
Had she but eyes!
EMMELINE.
Just now you said I had.
I see ‘hem, I have two.
ARTHUR.
But neither see.
EMMELINE.
I’m sure they hear you then:
What can your eyes do more?
ARTHUR.
They view your beauties.
EMMELINE.
Do not I see? You have a face, like mine.
Two hands, and two round, pretty rising breasts,
That heave like mine.
ARTHUR.
But you describe a woman.
Nor is it sight, but touching with your hands.
EMMELINE.
Then ‘tis my hand that sees, and that’s all one:
For is not seeing, touching with your eyes?
ARTHUR.
No, for I see at distance, where I touch not.
EMMELINE.
If you can see so far, and yet not touch,
I fear you see my naked legs and feet
Quite through my clothes; pray do not see so well.
ARTHUR.
Fear not, sweet innocence;
I view the lovely features of your face;
Your lips’ carnation, your dark shaded eyebrows,
Black eyes and snow-white forehead: all the colours
That make your beauty and produce my love.
EMMELINE.
Nay, then, you do not love on equal terms.
I love you dearly without these helps.
I cannot see your lips’ carnation,
Your shaded eyebrows, nor your milk-white eyes.
ARTHUR.
You still mistake.
EMMELINE.
Indeed, I thought you had a nose and eyes,
And such a face as mine; have not men faces?
ARTHUR.
Oh, none like yours, so excellently fair.
EMMELINE.
Then would I had no face; for I would be
Just such a one as you.
ARTHUR.
Alas, ‘tis vain to instruct your innocence,
You have no notion of light or colours.
O father, father, I am sure you’re here;
Because I see your voice.
ARTHUR.
No, thou mistak’st thy hearing for thy sight:
He’s gone, my Emmeline;
And I but stay to gaze on those air eyes,
Which cannot view the conquest they have made.
Oh star-like night, dark only to thyself,
But full of glory, as those lamps of heaven
That see not, when they shine.
EMMELINE.
What is this heav’n, and stars, and night, and day,
To which you thus compare my eyes and me?
I understand you when you say you love:
For, when my father clasps my hand in his,
That’s cold, and I can feel it hard and wrinkled;
But when you grasp it, then I sign, and pant,
And something smarts and tickles to my heart.
ARTHUR.
Oh, artless love! Where the soul moves the tongue.
And only nature speaks what nature thinks!
Had she but eyes!
EMMELINE.
Just now you said I had.
I see ‘hem, I have two.
ARTHUR.
But neither see.
EMMELINE.
I’m sure they hear you then:
What can your eyes do more?
ARTHUR.
They view your beauties.
EMMELINE.
Do not I see? You have a face, like mine.
Two hands, and two round, pretty rising breasts,
That heave like mine.
ARTHUR.
But you describe a woman.
Nor is it sight, but touching with your hands.
EMMELINE.
Then ‘tis my hand that sees, and that’s all one:
For is not seeing, touching with your eyes?
ARTHUR.
No, for I see at distance, where I touch not.
EMMELINE.
If you can see so far, and yet not touch,
I fear you see my naked legs and feet
Quite through my clothes; pray do not see so well.
ARTHUR.
Fear not, sweet innocence;
I view the lovely features of your face;
Your lips’ carnation, your dark shaded eyebrows,
Black eyes and snow-white forehead: all the colours
That make your beauty and produce my love.
EMMELINE.
Nay, then, you do not love on equal terms.
I love you dearly without these helps.
I cannot see your lips’ carnation,
Your shaded eyebrows, nor your milk-white eyes.
ARTHUR.
You still mistake.
EMMELINE.
Indeed, I thought you had a nose and eyes,
And such a face as mine; have not men faces?
ARTHUR.
Oh, none like yours, so excellently fair.
EMMELINE.
Then would I had no face; for I would be
Just such a one as you.
ARTHUR.
Alas, ‘tis vain to instruct your innocence,
You have no notion of light or colours.
