The Story of Nell Gwyn — Chapter 2

Was it the prince they said? How my heart trembles![Enter Demetrius, with a javelin in his hand.'Tis he indeed: what a sweet noble fiercenessDwells in his eyes! Young Meleager-like,When he returned from slaughter of the boar,Crown'd with the loves and honours of the people,With all the gallant youth of Greece, he looks now—Who could deny him love?

I left my client yonder in a rantAgainst the envious and the ignorant,Who are he says his only enemies;But he contemns their malice, and defiesThe sharpest of his censurers to sayWhere there is one gross fault in all his play,The language is so fitted to each part,The plot according to the rules of art;And twenty other things he bid me tell you,But I cry'd "E'en go do't yourself, for Nelly!"

None ever had so strange an artHis passion to conveyInto a list'ning virgin's heart,And steal her soul away.

All hearts fall a-leaping wherever she comes,And beat night and day like my Lord Craven's drums.