Ray. Thou wert the best of friends! Retire thou now. (Exit MOR One way there yet remains to reconcile This double war, and heal my tortured bosom. Thou, that so soundly sleep'st, unguarded thus [Going to the side of the stegt, Against whatever ill that may approach thee, Awake! rouse from the bed of listless sleep, And see who comes to greet thee. Enter Lord SALISBURY. Lord Sal. Do I dream? Or am I in the regions of the unblest, Ray. Rush not on my weapon. I have sought thee on a cause which honour loves; And would not have thee mar my soul's fair pur Shall shelter thee from my determined fury, Ray. Think not that I shall fly thee; or that I Have sought thee now, but on such terms as even May challenge thy applause. I come a foe, Indeed, but I do come a generous foe. Lord Sul. A generous foe! The brave indeed aspire To generous acts; their every thought looks up, And honour's dictates are their only function: But thou! what terms would'st thou propose? what act Of that essential virtue, that may rase And he, that re-ascends to virtue's height, : Ray. That I have wronged thee, I confess; take this, [Gives him a sword, and draws another. The only restitution I have left. I know thou never canst forgive, nor I Forget the sword, then, judge between. 1 Lives there so much honour, then, within thee? Spite of the mighty wrongs which thou hast done Me, I do thank thee. Ray. Now, Fortune mark her favourite! [RAY. is disarmed. Then she is partial, and I must submit. Lord Sal. Take up thy sword again; my fair Disdains too cheap a conquest. Oh generous! generous even to cruelty! Ray. Ask, ask that villain; he will answer all; [Dies. Lord Sal. Dreadful proof indeed! Now, where's my wife? where is my friend Leroches? Mor. My lord, by my assistance, he has fled. I saw how vain your purpose to escape; His single flight was unobserved. Your friends, In quest of whom he hasted, are arrived: That trumpet speaks it. [A trumpet heard. Lord Sal. It is, it is sir Ardolf! See, he comes. Enter ARDOLF and Knight. Ard. My noble friend! safe! crowned with conquest too! Lord Sal. Saw you Leroches ? He sought the castle by a private path. But where's my wife? my son? my soul is maimed Enter ELEANOR. Ele. My lord, my lord! the countess and lord William Send, send and save them from destruction! With horses, that outstrip the winds, the villains Have borne her from the castle! Lord Sal. Ravished by villains! Mount your horses, haste! Ard. Say, which way have they fled? Ele. West of the castle : Heaven grant their swiftness mock not your best speed! Ard. Now, good my lord, if I might speakLord Sal. Speak not To me; but forth and scour the country! Perhaps Heaven has been kind! perhaps 'tis she. Lady Sal. [Entering.] Now, hushed be every fear-Where, where's my hero, That I may once more hold him to my bosom? Enter Lady SALISBURY and Lord WILLIAM, conducted by LEROCHES. Lord Sal. "Tis she! 'tis she! My wife is in my arms again! Speak, speak! us hence, And rescued us from ruin. Ler. Happy hour! -came your I took the path which brought me to their res cue; The atrocious villain fell beneath this arm. My son! my friend! My God! my guardian Ele. O joy, that they are here again! Lord Sal. They're here! they're here! my wife and son are here! Proclaim it, O ye sons of light! spread wide Your starry pinions, angels, spread them wide, And trumpet loud throughout the unmeasured tracts Of highest Heaven, that virtue is made happy! Lady Sal. Let the sun cease to shine, the pla nets cease, Drop every star from his etherial height, Lord Sul. Friends, I am much beholden to you all. My love! the gloom that overspread our morn, And story of our future evening, oft That, to be truly good, is to be blessed. [Exeunt omnes. EPILOGUE. (Greece, that's their cant) no jesting closed the piece. Play, epilogue, and all were grave and solemn'Then, sir, the town were fools that did not maul 'em. No-let your heroine, in this laughing age, Come thus (as Bayes says) souse upon the stage; Then with a jaunting air-half smile, half grin, Curtsey quite round the boxes, and begin. A spark from court-no husband to detect him: A pretty fellow too, and yet reject him!— Now, ladies, let me die but it was sillyYou'll not approve such horrid prud'ry-will ye? I should have bless'd th' occasion, and receiv'd him : He should have kneel'd and vow'd, and I-be liev'd him. -Laugh'd, danc'd and sported it till spouse came over, Then kissed my dear-while Betty hid the lover. But here again our poet checks my flight: Nay, madam, you mistake the matter quite. My heroine liv'd in ancient, honest times; Cards were unknown, and gallantries were crimes !' Psha! what if females then were seldom rovers? Husbands (aye, there's the cause) were warm as lovers. Their warlike days indeed were spent in killing; But then at night-no turtles were so billing. Well-though he gives me no smart things to say, I wish this begging face may save his play : ter Do then-nay, pray you shew him some good nature. SCENE, The Castle of Narbonne, partly on a Platform before the Gate, and partly in a Garden within the Walls. ACT I. SCENE I.-The Platform before the Castle. Enter FLORIAN. Flor. WHAT awful silence! how these antique towers And vacant courts dull the suspended soul, What a kind of being is circumstance! She wastes on monks and beggars his inheri tance, For his soul's health! I never knew a woman SCENE II. Enter PETER, Porter of the Castle, and FLORIAN. Por. Methought They say his son count Edmund's mainly like him. 'Would these old arms, that serv'd his grandfather, Could once enfold him! I should part in peace. Flor. What if I bring tidings of coum Edmund? Por. Mercy befal me!--Now my dream is out. Last night the raven croak'd, and from the bars Of our lodge-fire flitted a messenger I knew no good would follow-Bring you ill tidings, Sir gentleman? Flor. (This is a solemn fool, I heard a stranger's voice-What lack you, sir? Or solemn knave.) Por. I do. Flor. Belike this castle is not thine. Por. Belike so: But be it whose it may, this is no haunt Thy lady, on my life, would not thus rudely Canst thou in hair-cloths vex those dainty limbs? Canst thou on reeking pavements and cold marble, In meditation pass the live-long night? From goblets foaming wine, and costly viands? These are the deeds, my youngster, must draw down My lady's ever heav'n-directed eye. deed rejoice [Aside.] Shouldst thou in To see count Edmund? Would thy noble mis tress mirth. But, say, why Narbonne's heir from Narbonne's Is banish'd, driven by a ruthless mother? Flor. In sooth, good friend, my knighthood is Such virtue never dwelt in female form. not school'd In voluntary rigours-I can fast, March supperless, and make cold earth my pillow, When my companions know no choicer fare. Por. Angels defend us! What a reprobate! Yon mould'ring porch, for sixteen years and Flor. Father grey-beard, I cry you mercy; nor was it my intention To wound your reverence's saint-like organs. But come, thou hast known other days-canst tell Of banquettings and dancings-'twas not always thus. Por. No, no-time was-my lord, the count of Narbonne, A prosp'rous gentleman: were he alive, Count Edmund-but he was indeed a stripling, Does my young master ever name old Peter? Flor. I do. Por. This Beatrice But hark! my lady comes-retire a while Por. For my office, no: [FLORIAN withdren s. [The Countess in Weeds, with a Crucifix in ser |