The empty words of flattery. I am but
The simple child of nature; have not known
Aught of man's wisdom save that gleaned from books,
Such as my father reads; but I have felt
That I was happier in my wild retreat
Than shining with the glitter of the world
I've witnessed from afar; whose noisy voice
Frightens me into silence, and whose breath
Would scorch my brain with fever; for the heart
Beareth not many such unwilling lessons
As I have grieved to glean from thy vague hints—
Too definite for my happiness. But I
Perhaps should thank thee for advice, which now
My heart is too much hurt and sorrowing
To value as it ought. I will retire,
And weep the bitter tears that flood my eyes,
And then I may be happier again.[Exit Azlea.
Her. I should have known her better than to throw
Reproach upon her actions. The young heart,
Finding itself mistaken in its trust,
Grows suddenly strong; and all its softness
Is petrified to marble. I must be
Regardful in the future, and not wound
Her sensitive spirit with too stern a view
Of the world's imperfections. This is strange—
That with her native doubt of human truth,
She still is so much pained by finding out
More than she had suspected. But this youth!
Why do I fear that she shall learn of him
To feel delight in love and confidence?
By his fine forehead, and his placid mouth,
And by the lines upon his handsome face,
I should pronounce him noble in his nature—
Gentle and just; and such I think he is;
Yet do I wish Azlea may never learn
To estimate his virtues as they are.
