| See that the traitor instantly be seiz'd, |
| And strictly watch'd: let none have access to him.— |
| O jealousy, thou aggregate of woes! |
| Were there no hell, thy torments would create one. |
| But yet she may be guiltless—may? she must. |
| How beautiful she look'd! pernicious beauty! |
| Yet innocent as bright seem'd the sweet blush |
| That mantled on her cheek. But not for me, |
| But not for me, those breathing roses blow! |
| And then she wept—What! can I bear her tears? |
| Well—let her weep—her tears are for another; |
| O did they fall for me, to dry their streams |
| I'd drain the choicest blood that feeds this heart, |
| Nor think the drops I shed were half so precious. |
| [he stands in a musing posture. |
| Enter Lord Raby. |
| Raby. Sure I mistake—am I in Raby Castle? |
| Impossible; that was the seat of smiles; |
| And Cheerfulness and Joy were household gods. |
| I us'd to scatter pleasures when I came, |
| And every servant shar'd his lord's delight; |
| But now Suspicion and Distrust dwell here, |
| And Discontent maintains a sullen sway. |
| Where is the smile unfeign'd, the jovial welcome, |
| Which cheer'd the sad, beguil'd the pilgrim's pain, |
| And made Dependency forget its bonds? |
| Where is the antient, hospitable hall, |
| Whose vaulted roof once rung with harmless mirth, |
| Where every passing stranger was a guest, |
| And every guest a friend? I fear me much, |
| If once our nobles scorn their rural seats, |
| Their rural greatness, and their vassals' love, |
| Freedom and English grandeur are no more. |
| Dou. [advancing.] My lord, you are welcome. |
| Raby. Sir, I trust I am; |
| But yet methinks I shall not feel I'm welcome |
| Till my Elwina bless me with her smiles: |
| She was not wont with ling'ring step to meet me, |
| Or greet my coming with a cold embrace; |
| Now, I extend my longing arms in vain; |
| My child, my darling, does not come to fill them. |
| O they were happy days, when she would fly |
| To meet me from the camp, or from the chace, |
| And with her fondness overpay my toils! |
| How eager would her tender hands unbrace |
| The ponderous armour from my war-worn limbs, |
| And pluck the helmet which oppos'd her kiss! |
| Dou. O sweet delights, that never must be mine! |
| Raby. What do I hear? |
| Dou. Nothing: inquire no farther. |
| Raby. My lord, if you respect an old man's peace, |
| If e'er you doted on my much-lov'd child, |
| As 'tis most sure you made me think you did, |
| Then, by the pangs which you may one day feel, |
| When you, like me, shall be a fond, fond father, |
| And tremble for the treasure of your age, |
| Tell me what this alarming silence means? |
| You sigh, you do not speak, nay more, you hear not; |
| Your lab'ring soul turns inward on itself, |
| As there were nothing but your own sad thoughts |
| Deserv'd regard. Does my child live? |
| Dou. She does. |
| Raby. To bless her father! |
| Dou. And to curse her husband! |
| Raby. Ah! have a care, my lord, I'm not so old— |
| Dou. Nor I so base, that I should tamely bear it; |
| Nor am I so inur'd to infamy, |
| That I can say, without a burning blush, |
| She lives to be my curse! |
| Raby. How's this? |
| Dou. I thought |
| The lily opening to the heaven's soft dews, |
| Was not so fragrant, and was not so chaste. |
| Raby. Has she prov'd otherwise? I'll not believe it, |
| Who has traduc'd my sweet, my innocent child? |
| Yet she's too good to 'scape calumnious tongues. |
| I know that Slander loves a lofty mark: |
| It saw her soar a flight above her fellows, |
| And hurl'd its arrow to her glorious height, |
| To reach her heart, and bring her to the ground. |
| Dou. Had the rash tongue of Slander so presum'd, |
| My vengeance had not been of that slow sort |
| To need a prompter; nor should any arm, |
| No, not a father's, dare dispute with mine, |
| The privilege to die in her defence. |
| None dares accuse Elwina, but— |
| Raby. But who? |
| Dou. But Douglas. |
| Raby. [puts his hand to his sword.] |
| You?—O spare my age's weakness! |
| You do not know what 'tis to be a father; |
| You do not know, or you would pity me, |
| The thousand tender throbs, the nameless feelings, |
| The dread to ask, and yet the wish to know, |
| When we adore and fear; but wherefore fear? |
| Does not the blood of Raby fill her veins? |
| Dou. Percy;—know'st thou that name? |
| Raby. How? What of Percy? |
| Dou. He loves Elwina, and, my curses on him! |
| He is belov'd again. |
| Raby. I'm on the rack! |
| Dou. Not the two Theban brothers bore each other |
| Such deep, such deadly hate as I and Percy. |
| Raby. But tell me of my child. |
| Dou. [not minding him.] As I and Percy! |
| When at the marriage rites, O rites accurs'd! |
| I seiz'd her trembling hand, she started back, |
| Cold horror thrill'd her veins, her tears flow'd fast. |
| Fool that I was, I thought 'twas maiden fear; |
| Dull, doting ignorance! beneath those terrors, |
| Hatred for me and love for Percy lurk'd. |
| Raby. What proof of guilt is this? |
| Dou. E'er since our marriage, |
| Our days have still been cold and joyless all; |
| Painful restraint, and hatred ill disguis'd, |
| Her sole return for all my waste of fondness. |
| This very morn I told her 'twas your will |
| She should repair to court; with all those graces, |
| Which first subdued my soul, and still enslave it, |
| She begg'd to stay behind in Raby Castle, |
| For courts and cities had no charms for her. |
| Curse my blind love! I was again ensnar'd, |
| And doted on the sweetness which deceiv'd me. |
| Just at the hour she thought I should be absent, |
| (For chance could ne'er have tim'd their guilt so well,) |
| Arriv'd young Harcourt, one of Percy's knights, |
| Strictly enjoin'd to speak to none but her; |
| I seiz'd the miscreant: hitherto he's silent, |
| But tortures soon shall force him to confess! |
| Raby. Percy is absent—They have never met. |
| Dou. At what a feeble hold you grasp for succour! |
| Will it content me that her person's pure? |
| No, if her alien heart dotes on another, |
| She is unchaste, were not that other Percy. |
| Let vulgar spirits basely wait for proof, |
| She loves another—'tis enough for Douglas. |
| Raby. Be patient. |
| Dou. Be a tame convenient husband, |
| And meanly wait for circumstantial guilt? |
| No—I am nice as the first Cæsar was, |
| And start at bare suspicion.[going. |
| Raby. [holding him.] Douglas, hear me; |
| Thou hast nam'd a Roman husband; if she's false, |
| I mean to prove myself a Roman father.[exit Douglas. |
| This marriage was my work, and thus I'm punish'd! |
| Enter Elwina. |
| Elw. Where is my father? let me fly to meet him, |
| O let me clasp his venerable knees, |
| And die of joy in his belov'd embrace! |
| Raby. [avoiding her embrace.] Elwina! |
| Elw. And is that all? so cold? |
| Raby. [sternly.] Elwina! |
| Elw. Then I'm undone indeed! How stern his looks! |
| I will not be repuls'd, I am your child, |
| The child of that dear mother you ador'd; |
| You shall not throw me off, I will grow here, |
| And, like the patriarch, wrestle for a blessing. |
| Raby. [holding her from him.] |
| Before I take thee in these aged arms, |
| Press thee with transport to this beating heart, |
| And give a loose to all a parent's fondness, |
| Answer, and see thou answer me as truly |
| As if the dread inquiry came from heaven,— |
| Does no interior sense of guilt confound thee? |
| Canst thou lay all thy naked soul before me? |
| Can thy unconscious eye encounter mine? |
| Canst thou endure the probe, and never shrink? |
| Can thy firm hand meet mine, and never tremble? |
| Art thou prepar'd to meet the rigid Judge? |
| Or to embrace the fond, the melting, father? |
| Elw. Mysterious Heaven! to what am I reserv'd! |
| Raby. Should some rash man, regardless of thy fame, |
| And in defiance of thy marriage vows, |
| Presume to plead a guilty passion for thee, |
| What would'st thou do? |
| Elw. What honour bids me do. |
| Raby. Come to my arms![they embrace. |
| Elw. My father! |
| Raby. Yes, Elwina, |
| Thou art my child—thy mother's perfect image. |
| Elw. Forgive these tears of mingled joy and doubt; |
| For why that question? who should seek to please |
| The desolate Elwina? |
| Raby. But if any |
| Should so presume, canst thou resolve to hate him, |
| Whate'er his name, whate'er his pride of blood, |
| Whate'er his former arrogant pretensions? |
| Elw. Ha! |
| Raby. Dost thou falter? Have a care, Elwina. |
| Elw. Sir, do not fear me: am I not your daughter? |
| Raby. Thou hast a higher claim upon thy honour; |
| Thou art Earl Douglas' wife. |
| Elw. [weeps.] I am, indeed! |
| Raby. Unhappy Douglas! |
| Elw. Has he then complain'd? |
| Has he presum'd to sully my white fame? |
| Raby. He knows that Percy—— |
| Elw. Was my destin'd husband; |
| By your own promise, by a father's promise, |
| And by a tie more strong, more sacred still, |
| Mine, by the fast firm bond of mutual love. |
| Raby. Now, by my fears, thy husband told me truth. |
| Elw. If he has told thee, that thy only child |
| Was forc'd a helpless victim to the altar, |
| Torn from his arms who had her virgin heart, |
| And forc'd to make false vows to one she hated, |
| Then I confess that he has told the truth. |
| Raby. Her words are barbed arrows in my heart. |
| But 'tis too late. [aside.] Thou hast appointed Harcourt |
| To see thee here by stealth in Douglas' absence? |
| Elw. No, by my life, nor knew I till this moment |
| That Harcourt was return'd. Was it for this |
| I taught my heart to struggle with its feelings? |
| Was it for this I bore my wrongs in silence? |
| When the fond ties of early love were broken, |
| Did my weak soul break out in fond complaints? |
| Did I reproach thee? Did I call thee cruel? |
| No—I endur'd it all; and wearied Heaven |
| To bless the father who destroy'd my peace. |
| Enter Messenger. |
| Mes. My lord, a knight, Sir Hubert as I think, |
| But newly landed from the holy wars, |
| Entreats admittance. |
| Raby. Let the warrior enter.[exit Messenger. |
| All private interests sink at his approach; |
| All selfish cares be for a moment banish'd; |
| I've now no child, no kindred but my country. |
| Elw. Weak heart, be still, for what hast thou to fear? |
| Enter Sir Hubert. |
| Raby. Welcome, thou gallant knight! Sir Hubert, welcome! |
| Welcome to Raby Castle!—In one word, |
| Is the king safe? Is Palestine subdu'd? |
| Sir H. The king is safe, and Palestine subdu'd. |
| Raby. Blest be the God of armies! Now, Sir Hubert, |
| By all the saints, thou'rt a right noble knight! |
| O why was I too old for this crusade! |
| I think it would have made me young again, |
| Could I, like thee, have seen the hated crescent |
| Yield to the Christian cross.—How now, Elwina! |
| What! cold at news which might awake the dead? |
| If there's a drop in thy degenerate veins |
| That glows not now, thou art not Raby's daughter. |
| It is religion's cause, the cause of Heaven! |
| Elw. When policy assumes religion's name, |
| And wears the sanctimonious garb of faith |
| Only to colour fraud, and license murder, |
| War then is tenfold guilt. |
| Raby. Blaspheming girl! |
| Elw. 'Tis not the crosier, nor the pontiff's robe, |
| The saintly look, nor elevated eye, |
| Nor Palestine destroy'd, nor Jordan's banks |
| Deluged with blood of slaughter'd infidels; |
| No, nor the extinction of the eastern world, |
| Nor all the mad, pernicious, bigot rage |
| Of your crusades, can bribe that Power who sees |
| The motive with the act. O blind, to think |
| That cruel war can please the Prince of Peace! |
| He, who erects his altar in the heart, |
| Abhors the sacrifice of human blood, |
| And all the false devotion of that zeal |
| Which massacres the world he died to save. |
| Raby. O impious rage! If thou would'st shun my curse, |
| No more, I charge thee.—Tell me, good Sir Hubert, |
| Say, have our arms achiev'd this glorious deed, |
| (I fear to ask,) without much Christian bloodshed? |
| Elw. Now, Heaven support me![aside. |
| Sir H. My good lord of Raby, |
| Imperfect is the sum of human glory! |
| Would I could tell thee that the field was won, |
| Without the death of such illustrious knights |
| As make the high-flush'd cheek of victory pale. |
| Elw. Why should I tremble thus?[aside. |
| Raby. Who have we lost? |
| Sir H. The noble Clifford, Walsingham, and Grey, |
| Sir Harry Hastings, and the valiant Pembroke, |
| All men of choicest note. |
| Raby. O that my name |
| Had been enroll'd in such a list of heroes! |
| If I was too infirm to serve my country, |
| I might have prov'd my love by dying for her. |
| Elw. Were there no more? |
| Sir H. But few of noble blood. |
| But the brave youth who gain'd the palm of glory, |
| The flower of knighthood, and the plume of war, |
| Who bore his banner foremost in the field, |
| Yet conquer'd more by mercy than the sword, |
| Was Percy. |
| Elw. Then he lives![aside. |
| Raby. Did he? Did Percy? |
| O gallant boy, then I'm thy foe no more; |
| Who conquers for my country is my friend! |
| His fame shall add new glories to a house, |
| Where never maid was false, nor knight disloyal. |
| Sir H. You do embalm him, lady, with your tears: |
| They grace the grave of glory where he lies— |
| He died the death of honour. |
| Elw. Said'st thou—died? |
| Sir H. Beneath the towers of Solyma he fell. |
| Elw. Oh! |
| Sir H. Look to the lady. |
| [Elwina faints in her father's arms. |
| Raby. Gentle knight, retire—— |
| 'Tis an infirmity of nature in her, |
| She ever mourns at any tale of blood; |
| She will be well anon—mean time, Sir Hubert, |
| You'll grace our castle with your friendly sojourn. |
| Sir H. I must return with speed—health to the lady.[exit. |
| Raby. Look up, Elwina. Should her husband come! |
| Yet she revives not. |
| Enter Douglas. |
| Dou. Ha——Elwina fainting! |
| My lord, I fear you have too harshly chid her. |
| Her gentle nature could not brook your sternness. |
| She wakes, she stirs, she feels returning life. |
| My love![he takes her hand. |
| Elw. O Percy! |
| Dou. [starts.] Do my senses fail me? |
| Elw. My Percy, 'tis Elwina calls. |
| Dou. Hell, hell! |
| Raby. Retire awhile, my daughter. |
| Elw. Douglas here, |
| My father and my husband?—O for pity— |
| [exit, casting a look of anguish on both. |
| Dou. Now, now confess she well deserves my vengeance! |
| Before my face to call upon my foe! |
| Raby. Upon a foe who has no power to hurt thee— |
| Earl Percy's slain. |
| Dou. I live again.—But hold— |
| Did she not weep? she did, and wept for Percy. |
| If she laments him, he's my rival still, |
| And not the grave can bury my resentment. |
| Raby. The truly brave are still the truly gen'rous; |
| Now, Douglas, is the time to prove thee both. |
| If it be true that she did once love Percy, |
| Thou hast no more to fear, since he is dead. |
| Release young Harcourt, let him see Elwina, |
| 'Twill serve a double purpose, 'twill at once |
| Prove Percy's death, and thy unchang'd affection. |
| Be gentle to my child, and win her heart |
| By confidence and unreproaching love. |
| Dou. By Heaven, thou counsel'st well! it shall be done. |
| Go set him free, and let him have admittance |
| To my Elwina's presence. |
| Raby. Farewell, Douglas. |
| Shew thou believ'st her faithful, and she'll prove so.[exit. |
| Dou. Northumberland is dead—that thought is peace! |
| Her heart may yet be mine, transporting hope! |
| Percy was gentle, even a foe avows it, |
| And I'll be milder than a summer's breeze. |
| Yes, thou most lovely, most ador'd of women, |
| I'll copy every virtue, every grace, |
| Of my bless'd rival, happier even in death |
| To be thus loved, than living to be scorn'd.[exit. |
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I. A GARDEN AT RABY CASTLE, WITH A BOWER.
Enter Percy and Sir Hubert.
| Sir H. That Percy lives, and is return'd in safety, |
| More joys my soul than all the mighty conquests |
| That sun beheld, which rose on Syria's ruin. |
| Per. I've told thee, good Sir Hubert, by what wonder |
| I was preserv'd, though number'd with the slain. |
| Sir H. 'Twas strange, indeed! |
| Per. 'Twas Heaven's immediate work! |
| But let me now indulge a dearer joy, |
| Talk of a richer gift of Mercy's hand; |
| A gift so precious to my doating heart, |
| That life preserv'd is but a second blessing. |
| O Hubert, let my soul indulge its softness! |
| The hour, the spot, is sacred to Elwina. |
| This was her fav'rite walk; I well remember, |
| (For who forgets that loves as I have lov'd?) |
| 'Twas in that very bower she gave this scarf, |
| Wrought by the hand of love! she bound it on, |
| And, smiling, cried, Whate'er befal us, Percy, |
| Be this the sacred pledge of faith between us. |
| I knelt, and swore, call'd every power to witness, |
| No time, nor circumstance, should force it from me, |
| But I would lose my life and that together— |
| Here I repeat my vow. |
| Sir H. Is this the man |
| Beneath whose single arm an host was crush'd? |
| He, at whose name the Saracen turn'd pale? |
| And when he fell, victorious armies wept, |
| And mourn'd a conquest they had bought so dear? |
| How has he chang'd the trumpet's martial note, |
| And all the stirring clangor of the war, |
| For the soft melting of the lover's lute! |
| Why are thine eyes still bent upon the bower? |
| Per. O Hubert, Hubert, to a soul enamour'd, |
| There is a sort of local sympathy, |
| Which, when we view the scenes of early passion, |
| Paints the bright image of the object lov'd |
| In stronger colours than remoter scenes |
| Could ever paint it; realizes shade, |
| Dresses it up in all the charms it wore, |
| Talks to it nearer, frames its answers kinder, |
| Gives form to fancy, and embodies thought. |
| Sir H. I should not be believ'd in Percy's camp, |
| If I should tell them that their gallant leader, |
| The thunder of the war, the bold Northumberland, |
| Renouncing Mars, dissolv'd in amorous wishes, |
| Loiter'd in shades, and pin'd in rosy bowers, |
| To catch a transient gleam of two bright eyes. |
| Per. Enough of conquest, and enough of war! |
| Ambition's cloy'd—the heart resumes its rights. |
| When England's king, and England's good, requir'd, |
| This arm not idly the keen falchion brandish'd: |
| Enough—for vaunting misbecomes a soldier. |
| I live, I am return'd—am near Elwina! |
| Seest thou those turrets? Yes, that castle holds her; |
| But wherefore tell thee this? for thou hast seen her. |
| How look'd, what said she? Did she hear the tale |
| Of my imagin'd death without emotion? |
| Sir H. Percy, thou hast seen the musk-rose, newly blown, |
| Disclose its bashful beauties to the sun, |
| Till an unfriendly, chilling storm descended, |
| Crush'd all its blushing glories in their prime, |
| Bow'd its fair head, and blasted all its sweetness; |
| So droop'd the maid beneath the cruel weight |
| Of my sad tale. |
| Per. So tender and so true! |
| Sir H. I left her fainting in her father's arms, |
| The dying flower yet hanging on the tree. |
| Even Raby melted at the news I brought, |
| And envy'd thee thy glory. |
| Per. Then I am blest! |
| His hate subdued, I've nothing more to fear. |
| Sir H. My embassy dispatch'd, I left the castle, |
| Nor spoke to any of Lord Raby's household, |
| For fear the king should chide the tardiness |
| Of my return. My joy to find you living |
| You have already heard. |
| Per. But where is Harcourt? |
| Ere this he should have seen her, told her all, |
| How I surviv'd, return'd—and how I love! |
| I tremble at the near approach of bliss, |
| And scarcely can sustain the joy which waits me. |
| Sir H. Grant, Heaven, the fair one prove but half so true! |
| Per. O she is truth itself! |
| Sir H. She may be chang'd, |
| Spite of her tears, her fainting, and alarms. |
| I know the sex, know them as nature made 'em, |
| Not such as lovers wish and poets feign. |
| Per. To doubt her virtue were suspecting Heaven, |
| 'Twere little less than infidelity! |
| And yet I tremble. Why does terror shake |
| These firm-strung nerves? But 'twill be ever thus, |
| When fate prepares us more than mortal bliss, |
| And gives us only human strength to bear it. |
| Sir H. What beam of brightness breaks through yonder gloom? |
| Per. Hubert—she comes! by all my hopes, she comes! |
| 'Tis she—the blissful vision is Elwina! |
| But ah! what mean those tears?—She weeps for me! |
| O transport!—go.—I'll listen unobserv'd, |
| And for a moment taste the precious joy, |
| The banquet of a tear which falls for love. |
| [exit Sir Hubert. Percy goes into the bower. |
| Enter Elwina. |
| Shall I not weep? and have I then no cause? |
| If I could break the eternal bands of death, |
| And wrench the sceptre from his iron grasp; |
| If I could bid the yawning sepulchre |
| Restore to life its long committed dust; |
| If I could teach the slaughtering hand of war |
| To give me back my dear, my murder'd Percy, |
| Then I indeed might once more cease to weep. |
| [Percy comes out of the bower. |
| Per. Then cease, for Percy lives. |
| Elw. Protect me, Heaven! |
| Per. O joy unspeakable! My life, my love! |
| End of my toils, and crown of all my cares! |
| Kind as consenting peace, as conquest bright, |
| Dearer than arms, and lovelier than renown! |
| Elw. It is his voice—it is, it is, my Percy! |
| And dost thou live? |
| Per. I never liv'd till now. |
| Elw. And did my sighs, and did my sorrows, reach thee? |
| And art thou come at last to dry my tears? |
| How did'st thou 'scape the fury of the foe? |
| Per. Thy guardian genius hover'd o'er the field, |
| And turn'd the hostile spear from Percy's breast, |
| Lest thy fair image should be wounded there. |
| But Harcourt should have told thee all my fate, |
| How I surviv'd—— |
| Elw. Alas! I have not seen him. |
| Oh! I have suffer'd much. |
| Per. Of that no more; |
| For every minute of our future lives |
| Shall be so bless'd, that we will learn to wonder |
| How we could ever think we were unhappy. |
| Elw. Percy—I cannot speak. |
| Per. Those tears how eloquent! |
| I would not change this motionless, mute, joy |
| For the sweet strains of angels: I look down |
| With pity on the rest of human kind, |
| However great may be their fame of happiness, |
| And think their niggard fate has given them nothing, |
| Not giving thee; or, granting some small blessing, |
| Denies them my capacity to feel it. |
| Elw. Alas! what mean you? |
| Per. Can I speak my meaning? |
| 'Tis of such magnitude that words would wrong it; |
| But surely my Elwina's faithful bosom |
| Should beat in kind responses of delight, |
| And feel, but never question, what I mean. |
| Elw. Hold, hold, my heart, thou hast much more to suffer! |
| Per. Let the slow form, and tedious ceremony, |
| Wait on the splendid victims of ambition. |
| Love stays for none of these. Thy father's soften'd, |
| He will forget the fatal Cheviot chace; |
| Raby is brave, and I have serv'd my country; |
| I would not boast, it was for thee I conquer'd; |
| Then come, my love. |
| Elw. O never, never, never! |
| Per. Am I awake? Is that Elwina's voice? |
| Elw. Percy, thou most ador'd, and most deceiv'd! |
| If ever fortitude sustain'd thy soul, |
| When vulgar minds have sank beneath the stroke, |
| Let thy imperial spirit now support thee.— |
| If thou canst be so wond'rous merciful, |
| Do not, O do not, curse me!—but thou wilt, |
| Thou must—for I have done a fearful deed, |
| A deed of wild despair, a deed of horror. |
| I am, I am— |
| Per. Speak, say, what art thou? |
| Elw. Married! |
| Per. Oh! |
| Elw. Percy, I think I begg'd thee not to curse me; |
| But now I do revoke the fond petition. |
| Speak! ease thy bursting soul; reproach, upbraid, |
| O'erwhelm me with thy wrongs——I'll bear it all. |
| Per. Open, thou earth, and hide me from her sight! |
| Did'st thou not bid me curse thee? |
| Elw. Mercy! mercy! |
| Per. And have I 'scap'd the Saracen's fell sword |
| Only to perish by Elwina's guilt? |
| I would have bared my bosom to the foe, |
| I would have died, had I but known you wish'd it. |
| Elw. Percy, I lov'd thee most when most I wrong'd thee; |
| Yes, by these tears I did. |
| Per. Married! just Heaven! |
| Married! to whom? Yet wherefore should I know? |
| It cannot add fresh horrors to thy crime, |
| Or my destruction. |
| Elw. Oh! 'twill add to both. |
| How shall I tell? Prepare for something dreadful. |
| Hast thou not heard of—Douglas? |
| Per. Why 'tis well! |
| Thou awful Power, why waste thy wrath on me? |
| Why arm omnipotence to crush a worm? |
| I could have fallen without this waste of ruin. |
| Married to Douglas! By my wrongs, I like it; |
| 'Tis perfidy complete, 'tis finish'd falsehood, |
| 'Tis adding fresh perdition to the sin, |
| And filling up the measure of offence! |
| Elw. Oh! 'twas my father's deed! he made his child |
| An instrument of vengeance on thy head. |
| He wept and threaten'd, sooth'd me, and commanded. |
| Per. And you complied, most duteously complied! |
| Elw. I could withstand his fury; but his tears, |
| Ah, they undid me! Percy, dost thou know |
| The cruel tyranny of tenderness? |
| Hast thou e'er felt a father's warm embrace? |
| Hast thou e'er seen a father's flowing tears, |
| And known that thou could'st wipe those tears away? |
| If thou hast felt, and hast resisted these, |
| Then thou may'st curse my weakness; but if not, |
| Thou canst not pity, for thou canst not judge. |
| Per. Let me not hear the music of thy voice, |
| Or I shall love thee still; I shall forget |
| Thy fatal marriage and my savage wrongs. |
| Elw. Dost thou not hate me, Percy? |
| Per. Hate thee? Yes, |
| As dying martyrs hate the righteous cause |
| Of that bless'd power for whom they bleed—I hate thee. |
| [they look at each other with silent agony.] |
| Enter Harcourt. |
| Har. Forgive, my lord, your faithful knight—— |
| Per. Come, Harcourt, |
| Come, and behold the wretch who once was Percy. |
| Har. With grief I've learn'd the whole unhappy tale. |
| Earl Douglas, whose suspicion never sleeps— |
| Per. What, is the tyrant jealous? |
| Elw. Hear him, Percy. |
| Per. I will command my rage—Go on. |
| Har. Earl Douglas |
| Knew, by my arms and my accoutrements, |
| That I belong'd to you; he question'd much, |
| And much he menac'd me, but both alike |
| In vain; he then arrested and confin'd me. |
| Per. Arrest my knight! The Scot shall answer it. |
| Elw. How came you now releas'd? |
| Har. Your noble father |
| Obtain'd my freedom, having learn'd from Hubert |
| The news of Percy's death. The good old lord, |
| Hearing the king's return, has left the castle |
| To do him homage. |
| [To Percy] Sir, you had best retire; |
| Your safety is endanger'd by your stay. |
| I fear, should Douglas know—— |
| Per. Should Douglas know! |
| Why what new magic's in the name of Douglas, |
| That it should strike Northumberland with fear? |
| Go, seek the haughty Scot, and tell him—no— |
| Conduct me to his presence. |
| Elw. Percy, hold; |
| Think not 'tis Douglas—'tis— |
| Per. I know it well—— |
| Thou mean'st to tell me 'tis Elwina's husband; |
| But that inflames me to superior madness. |
| This happy husband, this triumphant Douglas, |
| Shall not insult my misery with his bliss. |
| I'll blast the golden promise of his joys. |
| Conduct me to him—nay, I will have way— |
| Come, let us seek this husband. |
| Elw. Percy, hear me. |
| When I was robb'd of all my peace of mind, |
| My cruel fortune left me still one blessing, |
| One solitary blessing, to console me; |
| It was my fame.—'Tis a rich jewel, Percy, |
| And I must keep it spotless, and unsoil'd: |
| But thou wouldst plunder what e'en Douglas spar'd, |
| And rob this single gem of all its brightness. |
| Per. Go—thou wast born to rule the fate of Percy. |
| Thou art my conqueror still. |
| Elw. What noise is that? |
| [Harcourt goes to the side of the stage. |
| Per. Why art thou thus alarm'd? |
| Elw. Alas! I feel |
| The cowardice and terrors of the wicked, |
| Without their sense of guilt. |
| Har. My lord, 'tis Douglas. |
| Elw. Fly, Percy, and for ever! |
| Per. Fly from Douglas? |
| Elw. Then stay, barbarian, and at once destroy |
| My life and fame. |
| Per. That thought is death. I go: |
| My honour to thy dearer honour yields. |
| Elw. Yet, yet thou art not gone! |
| Per. Farewell, farewell![exit Percy. |
| Elw. I dare not meet the searching eye of Douglas. |
| I must conceal my terrors. |
| Douglas at the side with his sword drawn, Edric holds him. |
| Dou. Give me way. |
| Edr. Thou shalt not enter. |
| Dou. [struggling with Edric] If there were no hell, |
| It would defraud my vengeance of its edge, |
| And she should live. |
| [breaks from Edric and comes forward. |
| Cursed chance! he is not here. |
| Elw. [going.] I dare not meet his fury. |
| Dou. See she flies |
| With every mark of guilt.—Go, search the bower, |
| [aside to Edric. |
| He shall not thus escape. Madam, return.[aloud. |
| Now, honest Douglas, learn of her to feign.[aside. |
| Alone, Elwina? who just parted hence? |
| [with affected composure. |
| Elw. My lord, 'twas Harcourt; sure you must have met him. |
| Dou. O exquisite dissembler! [aside.] No one else! |
| Elw. My lord! |
| Dou. How I enjoy her criminal confusion![aside. |
| You tremble, madam. |
| Elw. Wherefore should I tremble? |
| By your permission Harcourt was admitted; |
| 'Twas no mysterious, secret introduction. |
| Dou. And yet you seem alarm'd.—If Harcourt's presence |
| Thus agitates each nerve, makes every pulse |
| Thus wildly throb, and the warm tides of blood |
| Mount in quick rushing tumults to your cheek; |
| If friendship can excite such strong emotions, |
| What tremors had a lover's presence caus'd? |
| Elw. Ungenerous man! |
| Dou. I feast upon her terrors.[aside. |
| The story of his death was well contriv'd;[to her. |
| But it affects not me; I have a wife, |
| Compar'd with whom cold Dian was unchaste. |
| [takes her hand. |
| But mark me well—though it concerns not you— |
| If there's a sin more deeply black than others, |
| Distinguish'd from the list of common crimes, |
| A legion in itself, and doubly dear |
| To the dark prince of hell, it is—hypocrisy. |
| [throws her from him, and exit. |
| Elw. Yes, I will bear his fearful indignation! |
| Thou melting heart, be firm as adamant; |
| Ye shatter'd nerves, be strung with manly force, |
| That I may conquer all my sex's weakness, |
| Nor let this bleeding bosom lodge one thought, |
| Cherish one wish, or harbour one desire, |
| That angels may not hear and Douglas know.[exit. |
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I. THE HALL.
Enter Douglas, his sword drawn and bloody in one hand, in the other a letter. Harcourt, wounded.