HERBERT Lost Man! if thou have any close-pent guilt
              Pressing upon thy heart, and this the hour
              Of visitation—­

MARMADUKE A bold word from you!

HERBERT Restore him, Heaven!

MARMADUKE The desperate Wretch!—­A Flower,
              Fairest of all flowers, was she once, but now
              They have snapped her from the stem—­Poh! let her lie
              Besoiled with mire, and let the houseless snail
              Feed on her leaves.  You knew her well—­ay, there,
              Old Man! you were a very Lynx, you knew
              The worm was in her—­

HERBERT Mercy!  Sir, what mean you?

MARMADUKE You have a Daughter!

HERBERT Oh that she were here!—­
              She hath an eye that sinks into all hearts,
              And if I have in aught offended you,
              Soon would her gentle voice make peace between us.

MARMADUKE (aside)
              I do believe he weeps—­I could weep too—­
              There is a vein of her voice that runs through his: 
              Even such a Man my fancy bodied forth
              From the first moment that I loved the Maid;
              And for his sake I loved her more:  these tears—­
              I did not think that aught was left in me
              Of what I have been—­yes, I thank thee, Heaven! 
              One happy thought has passed across my mind. 
             —­It may not be—­I am cut off from man;
              No more shall I be man—­no more shall I
              Have human feelings!—­
          (To HERBERT) —­Now, for a little more
              About your Daughter!

HERBERT Troops of armed men,
              Met in the roads, would bless us; little children,
              Rushing along in the full tide of play,
              Stood silent as we passed them!  I have heard
              The boisterous carman, in the miry road,
              Check his loud whip and hail us with mild voice,
              And speak with milder voice to his poor beasts.

MARMADUKE And whither were you going?

HERBERT Learn, young Man,—­
              To fear the virtuous, and reverence misery,
              Whether too much for patience, or, like mine,
              Softened till it becomes a gift of mercy.

MARMADUKE Now, this is as it should be!

HERBERT I am weak!—­
              My Daughter does not know how weak I am;
              And, as thou see’st, under the arch of heaven
              Here do I stand, alone, to helplessness,
              By the good God, our common Father, doomed!—­
              But I had once a spirit and an arm—­