OSWALD But hear the proofs—­

MARMADUKE Ay, prove that when two peas
              Lie snugly in a pod, the pod must then
              Be larger than the peas—­prove this—­’twere matter
              Worthy the hearing.  Fool was I to dream
              It ever could be otherwise!

OSWALD Last night
              When I returned with water from the brook,
              I overheard the Villains—­every word
              Like red-hot iron burnt into my heart. 
              Said one, “It is agreed on.  The blind Man
              Shall feign a sudden illness, and the Girl,
              Who on her journey must proceed alone,
              Under pretence of violence, be seized. 
              She is,” continued the detested Slave,
              “She is right willing—­strange if she were not!—­
              They say, Lord Clifford is a savage man;
              But, faith, to see him in his silken tunic,
              Fitting his low voice to the minstrel’s harp,
              There’s witchery in’t.  I never knew a maid
              That could withstand it.  True,” continued he,
              “When we arranged the affair, she wept a little
              (Not the less welcome to my Lord for that)
              And said, ‘My Father he will have it so.’”

MARMADUKE I am your hearer.

OSWALD This I caught, and more
              That may not be retold to any ear. 
              The obstinate bolt of a small iron door
              Detained them near the gateway of the Castle. 
              By a dim lantern’s light I saw that wreaths
              Of flowers were in their hands, as if designed
              For festive decoration; and they said,
              With brutal laughter and most foul allusion,
              That they should share the banquet with their Lord
              And his new Favorite.

MARMADUKE
                                    Misery!—­

OSWALD I knew
              How you would be disturbed by this dire news,
              And therefore chose this solitary Moor,
              Here to impart the tale, of which, last night,
              I strove to ease my mind, when our two Comrades,
              Commissioned by the Band, burst in upon us.

MARMADUKE Last night, when moved to lift the avenging steel,
              I did believe all things were shadows—­yea,
              Living or dead all things were bodiless,
              Or but the mutual mockeries of body,
              Till that same star summoned me back again. 
              Now I could laugh till my ribs ached.  Fool! 
              To let a creed, built in the heart of things,
              Dissolve