Thomas Love Peacock (Томас Лав Пикок)
The Lady, the Knight, and the Friar
THE LADY. O cavalier! what dost thou here, Thy tuneful vigils keeping; While the northern star looks cold from far And half the world is sleeping? THE KNIGHT. O lady! here, for seven long year, Have I been nightly sighing, Without the hope of a single tear To pity me were I dying. THE LADY. Should I take thee to have and to hold, Who hast nor lands nor money? Alas! 'tis only in flowers of gold That married bees flnd honey. THE KNIGHT. O lady fair! to my constant prayer Fate proves at last propitious; And bags of gold in my hand I bear, And parchment scrolls delicious. THE LADY. My maid the door shall open throw, For we too long have tarried: The friar keeps watch in the cellar below, And we will at once be married. THE FRIAR. My children! great is Fortune's power; And plain this truth appears, That gold thrives more in a single hour, Than love in seven long years.
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