Lady Sal. How

My lord! Think'st thou that I have other wrongs To weep than thou hast seen ?

Lord Sal. I heard thee cry.

Lady Sal. I know not what I did-Dishonoured!-0! The thought wakes every pulse to indignation.

Lord Sal. What did he not assail thee?

Lady Sal. No-Assail me!

Lord Sal. Then thou art safe, thy honour unassay'd? Lady Sal. So witness Heaven!

Lord Sal. The God of Heaven be prais'd!

Lady Sal. And could'st thou think so meanly of me?-Oh!

I had let the life-blood from this bosom forth
Ere I had brock'd dishonour.

Lord Sal. Best of thy sex-Thy cries like daggers
pierc'd me:

And fearful fancy pictur'd such a scene

As huried me to madness-But thou art safe,

My wife is safe! and I am blest again.

Lady Sal. My heart o'erjoys-Then wherefore do I

fear?

Lord Sal. I had forgot-our son; for him thou fear'st?

Lady Sal. Not only for my son, but for thyself, Thy precious self I trembl'd-Oh, this fiend!

The slaves and agents of destruction, black
And bold, are station'd round him, and but wait
Their master's nod.

Ler. Would we were safe bestow'd

Without this fearful prison!

Lady Sal. Would we were !—

Think, think, my lord, is there no way of flight? Lord Sal. Thou hast recall'd to my remembrance what,

If seconded by this our plighted friend,

May claim a serious and attentive hearing.

Mor. Small is the service I can boast my lord; In all my best I shall be prompt to aid you.

Lord Sal. Hear then.-Deep underneath this vaulted ground,

Curious and close, by our forefathers scoop'd,
I do remember me there is a dark

And secret mine, which leads by many a maze
Without the castle.-Not far thence there stands,
Within the bosom of an aged grove,

An house for pious uses set apart,

The hallow'd seat of godly brethren: there

I fear not we shall rest secure of ill.

Lady Sal. Most opportune as could our wishes frame

But oh! our little hope! our younger care I

Mor. My life shall answer for Lord William's safety. Lady Sal. Then let us forth.

Mor. The night is over young;

The castle's yet awake, and would but mock

The attempt.

Lord Sal. Say, what shall be the appointed hour.

Mor. Some three hours hence, my lord; or ere the

clock

Perchance have told the second watch-And now

That squint suspicion mar not, let us part.

Lady Sal. Then must we part?-But 'tis to save us all.

Three hours-farewell!-Oh! they will be three long, Long hours to me!

Lord Sal. Farewell my best !-Mean time, Leroches, we will rest us here apart.—Farewell, Farewell! thou soother sweet of every care! The God, that loves the unsullied mind, descend, And be thy guardian till we meet again!

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE 1.

A Forest and Cottage. Enter. ARDOLF and a Knight.

Ardolf.

THE storm is laid; and from the parting clouds
See where the moon steps forth, pale goddess,
Chearing the dark, dull brow of hagard night.-
This is the forest—that the cottager's,

Or I do err, th' appointed place of meeting.

Knt. It is; behold the rock, as was describ'd, The torrent foaming down his rugged side.

Ard. See, the bright harbinger of morning climbs The steep of Heaven: they're in the first reposeWake, peasant, wake-How balmy sweet the sleep Of him, who stretches under rustic roof!

F

His task of labour o'er, content he lays

Him on his rushy couch; nor elves, nor goblins,
(The coinage of swoln surfeit or of guilt)
Approach his peaceful pillow.-Wake, I say:
Peasant, awake.

Enter a Peasant from the Cottage.

Pea. Who calls?

What is your business, that at this late hour
You make the forest echo with your cries?
Ard. Peasant, are there not certain travellers
Within thy cottage?

Pea. No.

Ard. What! saw you not

Two stranger pilgrims pass this way?

Pea. I did.

Two such arrived ere the lark had risen

From her moss cabin, or the cock

Gave note of morn.

Ard. Say, gentle cottager,

Where may they now be lodg'd?

Pea. Nay, stranger, that

I know not. They went hence about the time
The bat began her twilight play.

Ard. 'Tis strange

They should depart-Left they no message?

Pea. None.

They said, they wish'd to see the neighbouring abbey;

But would to-night partake our homely fare.

[Returns into the Cottage.

Ard. We now are in the precincts of the castle; But whether to proceed, or wait, perchance If they return, I know not.-Hark! some one Approaches-who is there?

Leroches!

Enter LEROCHES.

Ler. Happily met-where are your friends?
Ard. At hand; and well appointed each-where is
my lord?

Ler. In chains: in his own castle basely bound-
Torn from his wife and son.-How I escap'd-
But haste; time is too precious now for more:
His life hangs upon each eventful moment.

Ard. In chains! his life in danger -Ho! my friends!

To horse, quick; we will rescue him, or perish.
Ler. Ardolf, pursue the eastern causeway you ;
I with a chosen few will trace the path,
Which led me from the postern.

Ard. Wisely cautioned :

Divided thus, we wage an easier war.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Within the Castle. Enter GREY and MORton,

Grey. My noble Morton

well hast thou repaid

The nicer hope which I repos'd in thee.

-Their unprovided rest outruns my wishes.