My nature is of temp'rature too cold—
I pray you pardon me. (Jane's countenance changes.)
But take this hand, the token of respect;
The token of a will inclin'd to concord;
The token of a mind that bears within
A sense impressive of the debt it owes you;
And cursed be its power, unnerv'd its strength,
If e'er again it shall be lifted up
To do you any harm.
Rez. Well, be it so, De Monfort, I'm contented;
I'll take thy hand since I can have no more.
(Carelessly.) I take of worthy men whate'er they give.
Their heart I gladly take; if not, their hand;
If that too is withheld, a courteous word,
Or the civility of placed looks;
And, if e'en these are too great favours deem'd,
'Faith, I can set me down contentedly
With plain and homely greeting, or, God save ye!
(De Monfort aside, starting away from him some paces.)
(Jane seems greatly distressed, and Freberg endeavours to cheer her,)
Freb. to Jane. Cheer up, my noble friend; all will go well;
For friendship is no plant of hasty growth.
Tho' planted in esteem's deep-fixed soil,
The gradual culture of kind intercourse
Must bring it to perfection.
