My cup of bliss, my passport to skies. Bir. Hark! what alarm is that? Fr. The combat 's over! [BIRTHA goes out. [ELWINA stands in a fixed attitude, her hands clasped. Se, gracious Heaven, sustain me in the trial, And bow my spirit to thy great decrces! Re-enter BIRTHA. Say but a word that Percy Des. (ELWINA looks steadfastly at her without Shall share my uncomplaining day between them speaking. Bir. Douglas is fallen. Elu. Bring me the poison. Bir. Never. [approach! Elwo. Where are the knights? I summon youDraw near, ye awful ministers of fate, Dire instruments of posthumous revenge! Come-I am ready; but your tardy justice Defrauds the injur'd dead.-Go, haste, my friend, See that the castle be securely guarded, Let every gate be barr'd-prevent his entrance. Elw. His-the murderer of my husband. Who knows what love and madness may attemp? By all my fears the insulting conqueror comes. (save me, shield me! To blast thee with the sight of him thou hat'st Of him thou hast wrong'd, adultress, 'tis thy husband. [mercy; Elw. [Kneels,] Bless'd be the fountain of eternal This load of guilt is spar'd me! Douglas lives! Perhaps both live! [To BIRTHA.] Could I be sure of that, The poison were superfluous, joy would kill me. Dou. Be honest now, for once, and curse thy stars; Curse thy detested fate which brings thee back With my too happy rival: when thou flew'st, Dou. To give thy guilty breast a deeper wound, Dou. O, hypocrite! now, Vengeance, to th office. I had forgot-Percy commends him to thee, Elu. How-by thy hand? [He gives her PERCY'S Scar El. Then Percy's dead! [mine Dou. He is.-0 great revenge, thou now art See how convulsive sorrow rends her frame. This, this is transport!-injur'd honour now Receives its vast, its ample retribution. She sheds no tears, her grief s too highly wrought; 'Tis speechless agony.-She must not faintShe shali zot 'scape her portion of the pain. No! she shall feel the fulness of distress, And wake to keen perception of her loss. Bir. Monster Barbarian! leave her to her SCYTOWE. Elw. [in a ico broker. v.vice. 1 Douglas-think not I faint, because thou seest The pale and bloodless cheek of wan despair. Fail me not yet, my spirits; ou cold heart, Cherish thy freezing current ene short momen And bear thy mighty load a little longer. Dou. Percy, I must avow it, bravely fought,- The sorrow's weak that wastes itself in words, [Exeunt ELWINA and BIRTHA Dou. Why, this is well! her sense of wo i strong! [her The sharp, keen tooth of gnawing grief devours Feeds on her heart, and pays me back my pangs Since I must perish, 'twill be glorious ruin: I fall not singly, but, like some proud tower, I'll crush surrounding objects in the wreck, And make the devastation wide and dreadful. Enter RADY. Raby. O whither shall a wretched father turn Where fly for comfort? Douglas, art thou here? I do not ask for comfort at thy hands. I'd but one little casket, where I lodged My precious hoard of wealth, and, like an idiot. I gave my treasure to another's keeping, Who threw away the gem, nor knew its valzc, But left the plunder'd owner quite a beggar. Dou. What art thou come to see thy race i honour'd? Dou. There will be blood enough; Despair had been my portion! Fly, good Birtha Find out the suffering saint-describe my peni tence, And paint my vast extravagance of fondness, [Exit BIRTIIA Raby. Douglas! it is the dew of grateful joy My child is innocent! I now would die, Nor need thy wither'd veins, old lord, be drain'd, Lest fortune should grow weary of her kindness, To swell the copious stream. Raby. Thou wilt not kill her? Dou. Oh, 'tis a day of horror! And grudge me this short transport. Dou. Where, where is she? My fond impatience brooks not her delay; Quick, let me find her, hush her anxious soul, And sooth her troubled spirit into peace Enter BIRTHA. Bir. O horror, horror, horror! [wife. Dou. Ah! what mean'st thou ? Bir. Elwina— Edr. This instant fly, and save thy guiltless Bir. Unfortunate indeed, but O most innocent! Dou. I heard him. 'Twas the guilty fraud of love. The scarf, the scarf! that proof of mutual passion, Given but this day to ratify their crimes! Bir. What means my lord? This day? That fatal scarf Was given long since, a toy of childish friendship; Raby. I,-I alone. Confusion, honour, pride, parental fondness, Dou. And confirm'd my mis'ry! Twice did they meet to-day-my wife and Percy. Raby. I know it. Dou. Ha! thou knew'st of my dishonour? Thou wast a witness, an approving witness, At least a tame one! Raby. Percy came, 'tis true, A constant, tender, but a guiltless lover! Dou. I shall grow mad indeed; a guiltless lover! Percy, the guiltless lover of my wife? Raby. He knew not she was married. [cent; ty. Douglas, 'tis true; both, both were innoElo of her marriage, she of his return. [vow'd Bir. But now, when we believ'd thee dead, she Never to see thy rival. Instantly, Not in a state of momentary passion, But with a martyr's dignity and calmness, She hade me bring the poison. Do Had'st thou done it, Dou. Speak Bir. Her grief wrought up to frenzy, She has, in her delirium, swallow'd poison Raby. Frenzy and poison! Dou. Both a husband's gift; But thus I do her justice. As DOUGLAS goes to stab himself, enter ELwin▲ distructed, her hair dishevelled, PERCY'S scary in her hand. Elw. [Goes up to DOUGLAS.] What, blood again? We cannot kill him twice! Soft, soft-no violence-he's dead already ;I did it-Yes-I drown'd him with my tears;But hide the cruel deed! I'll scratch him out A shallow grave, and lay the green sod on it; Ay-and I'll bind the wild briar o'er the turf, And plant a willow there, a weeping willow[She sits on the ground But look you tell not Douglas, he'll disturb him; He'll pluck the willow up-and plant a thorn. He will not let me sit upon his grave, And sing all day, and weep and pray all night. Raby. Dost thou not know me? Elw. Yes-I do remember You had a harmless lamb. Raby. I had indeed! [wate Elw. From all the flock you chose her out a In sooth a fair one-you did bid her love itBut while the shepherd slept the wolf devour'd it. Raby. My heart will break. This is too much, too much! Elw. [Smiling.] O 'twas a cordial draught—1 drank it all. Raby. What means my child? Elw. Off-murderer, off! Do not defile me with those crania This is his winding share, I'll wegg ním vg it— I wrought it for my-there--now I've dress'd tim Haw brave to looks! my father will forgive him, He dearly lov'd him once--but that is over. [She faints, they run to her.. DOUGLAS takes Dou Thus, thus I follow thee. Dou. It is too late. No remedy but this Raby. Ah, she revives! What sight is that? But something tells me-O those painful struggles Dou. [Raising himself.] She lives! bear, bear O thou poor injur'd saint, forgive thy father, me to her! We shall be happy yet. He kneels to his wrong'd child. Elw. Now you are cruel, [He struggles to get to her, but sinks down. Come near, my father, nearer-I would see you, It will not be O for a last e brace-Alas! I faint- Raby. Look up, my child! O do not leave me Elw. No-you are my facher; O you are kindly come to close my eyes, Elu. We soon shall meet in peace. But mists and darkness cloud my failing sight [She dies Ruby. She's gone! for ever gone! cold, dear Am 1, father? Fathers love their children- [Exeuni AS IT WAS ACTED IN 1779, AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN. ΤΟ THE COUNTESS BATHURST, THIS TRAGEDY IS VERY RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, AS A AND AS A GRATEFUL TESTIMONY OF THE FRIENDSHIP WITH WHICH SHE HONOURS OBLIGED HUMBLE SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. PROLOGUE. WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR OF THE TRAGEDY.-SPOKEN BY MR. HULL. OUR modern poets now can scarcely choose Or if, perchance, they from the golden crop Nor does she emulate the loftier strains No ruin'd empires greet to-night your eyes, To statesmen deep, to politicians grave, Of crowns and camps, a kingdom's weal or wo teach. Vouchsafe to learn this obvious duty here, АСТ 1. SCENE-An Apartment in Guildford Castle. Enter BERTRAND. I play a surer game, and screen my heart Ber. What fools are seriously melancholy My deeds appear the effect of wild caprice, villains ' VOL. I And I the thoughtless slave of giddy chance. 2 M What but this frankness could have won the | And if he from the field returned a conqueror, promise Of young Orlando, to confide to me That secret grief which preys upon his heart? 'Tis shallow, indiscreet hypocrisy, To seem too good: I am the careless Bertrand, The honest, undesigning, plain, blunt man. The follies I avow cloak those I hide, For who will search where nothing seems conceal'd? 'Tis rogues of solid, prudent, grave demeanour, How fares my noble uncle? Honest Bertrand! miss'd you. [me, sir, Ber. O, my good lord! your pardon-spare For there are follies in a young man's life, And idle thoughtless hours, which I should blush To lay before your wise and temperate age. Guild. Well, be it so-youth has a privilege, And I should be asham'd could I forget I have myself been young, and harshly chide This not ungraceful gayety. Yes, Bertrand, Prudence becomes moroseness, when it makes A rigid inquisition of the fault, Not of the man, perhaps, but of his youth. Foibles that shame the head on which old Time Has shower'd his snow, are then more pardonAnd age has many a weakness of its own. [able. Ber. Your gentleness, my lord, and mild reproof, Correct the wanderings of misguided youth, More than rebuke can shame me into virtue. Guild. Saw you my beauteous ward, the lady Julia? Ber. She pass'd this way, and with her your Your Emmelina. [fair daughter, Guild. Call them both my daughters; For scarce is Emmelina more belov'd Than Julia, the dear child of my adoption. The hour approaches too, (and, bless it heaven, With thy benignest, kindliest influence !) When Julia shall indeed become my daughter, Shall, in obedience to her father's will, Crown the impatient vows of my brave son, And richly pay him for his dangers past. Ber. Oft have I wondered how the gallant Youthful and ardent, doting to excess, [Rivers, Could dare the dangers of uncertain war, Ere marriage had confirmed his claim to Julia. Guild. 'Twas the condition of her father's will, My brave old fellow-soldier, and my friend! He wished to see our ancient houses joined By this, our children's union; but the veteran So highly valued military prowess, That he bequeath'd his fortunes and his daughter To my young Rivers, on these terms alone, That he should early gain renown in arms; | That sun which saw him come victorious home Should witness their espousals. Yet he comes not! The event of war to the brave uncertain, Ber. Yet fame speaks loudly of his early Guild. E'er since the Italian count, the young My Rivers' bosom friend, has been my guest, The glory of my son is all his theme: Oh! he recounts his virtues with such joy, Dwells on his merit with a zeal so warm, As to his generous heart pays back again The praises he bestows. Orlando's noble. He's of a tender, brave, and gallant nature, Of honour most romantic, with such graces As charm all womankind. Guild. And here comes one, To whom the story of Orlando's praise Sounds like sweet music. Ber. Nay, he has merit Might justify thy friendship, if he wanted The claims thou mention'st; yet I mean to [my father? blame him. Em. What has he done? How has he wrong'd For you are just, and are not angry lightly; And he is mild, unapt to give offence, As you to be offended. Guild. Nay, 'tis not much But why does young Orlando shun my presence's Why lose that cheerful and becoming spirit Which lately charmed us all? Rivers will chide us, Should he return and find his friend unhappy. He is not what he was. What says my child? Em. My lord, when first my brother's friend arrived Be still, my heart Ber. (Aside.) She dares not use his name (Aside.) Her brother's friend! Em. When first your noble gues' And shar'd the gen'ral joy his presence gave. Can I think |