Let higher stations vaunt their claim,
Let others sing of rank and birth;
The faithful housewife's honest fame
Is linked to the best joy on earth.
* * * * *
SCENE FROM RICHELIEU.
Enter JULIE DE MORTEMAR
RICHELIEU. That's my sweet Julie! why, upon this face
Blushes such daybreak, one might swear the morning
Were come to visit Tithon.
JULIE (_placing herself at his feet_). Are you gracious?
May I say "Father?"
RICH. Now and ever!
JULIE. Father!
A sweet word to an orphan.
RICH. No; not orphan
While Richelieu lives; thy father loved me well;
My friend, ere I had flatterers (now I'm great,
In other phrase, I'm friendless)--he died young
In years, not service, and bequeathed thee to me;
And thou shalt have a dowry, girl, to buy
Thy mate amid the mightiest. Drooping?--sighs?--
Art thou not happy at the court?
JULIE. Not often.
RICH, (_aside_). Can she love Baradas? Ah! at thy heart
There's what can smile and sigh, blush and grow pale,
All in a breath! Thou art admired--art young;
Does not his Majesty commend thy beauty--
Ask thee to sing to him?--and swear such sounds
Had smoothed the brow of Saul?
JULIE.
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