SCENE I. THE HALL.
Enter Douglas, his sword drawn and bloody in one hand, in the other a letter. Harcourt, wounded.
| Dou. Traitor, no more! this letter shews thy office; |
| Twice hast thou robb'd me of my dear revenge. |
| I took thee for thy leader.—Thy base blood |
| Would stain the noble temper of my sword; |
| But as the pander to thy master's lust, |
| Thou justly fall'st by a wrong'd husband's hand. |
| Har. Thy wife is innocent. |
| Dou. Take him away. |
| Har. Percy, revenge my fall![guards bear Harcourt in. |
| Dou. Now for the letter! |
| He begs once more to see her.—So 'tis plain |
| They have already met!—but to the rest—— |
| [Reads.] "In vain you wish me to restore the scarf; |
| Dear pledge of love, while I have life I'll wear it, |
| 'Tis next my heart; no power shall force it thence; |
| Whene'er you see it in another's hand, |
| Conclude me dead."—My curses on them both! |
| How tamely I peruse my shame! but thus, |
| Thus let me tear the guilty characters |
| Which register my infamy; and thus, |
| Thus would I scatter to the winds of heaven |
| The vile complotters of my foul dishonour. |
| [tears the letter in the utmost agitation. |
| Enter Edric. |
| Edr. My lord—— |
| Dou. [in the utmost fury, not seeing Edric.] The scarf! |
| Edr. Lord Douglas. |
| Dou. [still not hearing him.] Yes, the scarf! |
| Percy, I thank thee for the glorious thought! |
| I'll cherish it; 'twill sweeten all my pangs, |
| And add a higher relish to revenge! |
| Edr. My lord! |
| Dou. How! Edric here? |
| Edr. What new distress? |
| Dou. Dost thou expect I should recount my shame, |
| Dwell on each circumstance of my disgrace, |
| And swell my infamy into a tale? |
| Rage will not let me—But—my wife is false. |
| Edr. Art thou convinc'd? |
| Dou. The chronicles of hell |
| Cannot produce a falser.—But what news |
| Of her cursed paramour? |
| Edr. He has escap'd. |
| Dou. Hast thou examin'd every avenue? |
| Each spot? the grove? the bower, her favourite haunt? |
| Edr. I've search'd them all. |
| Dou. He shall be yet pursued. |
| Set guards at every gate.—Let none depart |
| Or gain admittance here, without my knowledge. |
| Edr. What can their purpose be? |
| Dou. Is it not clear? |
| Harcourt has raised his arm against my life; |
| He fail'd; the blow is now reserv'd for Percy; |
| Then, with his sword fresh reeking from my heart, |
| He'll revel with that wanton o'er my tomb; |
| Nor will he bring her aught she'll hold so dear, |
| As the curs'd hand with which he slew her husband. |
| But he shall die! I'll drown my rage in blood, |
| Which I will offer as a rich libation |
| On thy infernal altar, black revenge![exeunt. |