Act 2, Scene 5

                                        

                                              


                              
SCENE V. Lucius Malfoy's gardens.
                              
Enter Draco
                              


                              
DRACO
                              
The clock struck nine when I did send Blaise;
                              
In an hour, he promised to return.
                              
Perchance he cannot meet him: that's not so.
                              
O, he is against this! I know that for certain,
                              
Swore, he did, to act as my agent.
                              
O, love's heralds should be thoughts,
                              
Which are ten times faster than the sun's beams,
                              
It drives back shadows over louring doubts:
                              
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,
                              
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
                              
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill
                              
Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve
                              
Is three long hours, yet he is not come back.
                              
Had it not been my Harry, but Pansy,
                              
He would be as swift in motion as a ball;
                              
My words would bandy him to my sweet love,
                              
And I pray he holds true to my confidence
                              
O thank the sun, she comes!
                              


                              
Enter BLAISE and DAPHNE
                              


                              
O, my bestest Blaise, what news?
                              
Hast thou met with him? Send thy guard away.
                              
BLAISE
                              
Daphne, thanks. I'll see you later.
                              
DAPHNE
                              
Call me if your chutzpah leaves you again.
                              


                              
Exit DAPHNE
                              


                              
BLAISE
                              
She's got a bit of cheek.
                              
DRACO
                              
Forget her, brother--O why look 'st thou sad?
                              
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;
                              
If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news
                              
By playing it to me with so sour a face.
                              
BLAISE
                              
I am a-weary, give me a bit to relax:
                              
Fie, how my bones ache! What a walk have I had!
                              
DRACO
                              
I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:
                              
Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, Blaise, speak!
                              
BLAISE
                              
Oy vey, what haste? Can you not stay awhile?
                              
Do you not see that I am out of breath?
                              
DRACO
                              
How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath
                              
To say to me that thou art out of breath?
                              
The excuse that thou dost make in this delay
                              
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.
                              
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;
                              
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:
                              
Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?
                              
Does my love renounce his hasty words?
                              
BLAISE
                              
Well, you are in earnest to know, are thee?
                              
But you have made a dangerous choice;
                              
You know not how to choose a man: this Harry?
                              
No, not he; though his face be better than any man,
                              
though he be not talked on, yet he is
                              
past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy,
                              
but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb.
                              
And as noble as Mr. Wilberforce himself
                              
DRACO
                              
No, yes! But all this did I know before.
                              
What says he of our relationship? what of that?
                              
BLAISE
                              
Hell, how my head aches! I need a pain pill!
                              
It beats as it would fall into twenty pieces.
                              
Damn your heart for sending me about,
                              
To catch my death with running about!
                              
Looking for rascal wizards on your behalf!
                              
DRACO
                              
I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.
                              
I will get you a pain remedy in a second, but please
                              
Sweet, sweet, dear Blaise, tell me, what says my love?
                              
BLAISE
                              
Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a
                              
courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I
                              
warrant, a virtuous,--O where is your mother?
                              
DRACO
                              
Where is my mother! Why, she is within;
                              
Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!
                              
'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,
                              
Where is your mother?'
                              
BLAISE
                              
For shame, Draco! Care not for your mother?
                              
Are you so impertinent? marry, I'll go;
                              
Fetch my own poultice for my aching bones
                              
Henceforward do your messages yourself.
                              
DRACO
                              
You're such a taunting siren! What says Harry?
                              
BLAISE
                              
Can you slip out of your father's house today?
                              
DRACO
                              
I can.
                              
BLAISE
                              
Then hie you hence to Neville's flowery;
                              
There is a mate to make you his husband
                              
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,
                              
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.
                              
Hie you to the shop; I'll stay on as your alibi,
                              
Go fetch a ladder, and leave the bird's nest
                              
I will drudge and toil in your delight,
                              
But you shall bear the burden of consequences.
                              
Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to your suitor.
                              
DRACO
                              
O high fortune! Thank you, Blaise, farewell.
                              


                              
Exeunt