guards,

Sends Jack for mustard with a pack of cards; Kings, queens, and knaves, tip one another down,

Till the whole pack lie scatter'd and o'erthrown.
Thus all our pack upon the floor is cast,
And my sole boast is, that I will die the last.
[Stabs himself;-they all lie on the stage, dead.

MERLIN rises.-Thunder and lightning. Merlin. Blood, what a scene of slaughter's here!

But I'll soon shift it, never fear.
Gallants, behold! one touch of Merlin's magic,
Shall to gay comic change this dismal tragic.
[Waves his wand.

Scene changes, and discovers the Cow.
First, at my word, thou horned cannibal,
Return again our England's Hannibal.

[Thunder.

[THUMB is thrown out of the Cow's mouth, und starts fiercely.]

Next to you, king, queen, lords, and commons, 1 issue my hell-bilking summons.

When we two last parted,

We scarce hop'd to buss again;
[To the KING.] Dear King Atty, pitty,
My heart! lord, how it smarted!
Mine too went a fleeting;

Now we in a nipperkin

May toast this merry meeting.

[patty,

Tom. [To HUNC.] Come, my Hunky, come, my pet,

Love's in haste, don't stay him;
Deep we are in Hymen's debt.

And 'tis high time we pay him,
Hunc. [To Toм.] Have, dear Tommy,
Pity on me;

I am by shame restricted;
Yet I obey,

So take your way,

I must not contradict it.

[hoof,

Griz. [To GLUM.] Grandest Glum, in my be-
To love's law be pliant;
Me you'll find a man of proof,
Although not quite a giant.

Glum. [To GRIZ.] Indeed, Lord Griz,
Though for that phiz

Few amorous queens would choose you;
Yet thus bereft,

Not one chum left,

Let all in peace

Go home and kiss their spouses; Join hat and cap

In one loud clap,

And wish us crowded houses.

[Exeunt.

(ness, And though the noble Douglas dotes to madYet some dark mystery involves their fate: The canker grief devours Elwina's bloom, And on her brow meek resignation sits, Hopeless, yet uncomplaining.

Edr. 'Tis most strange.

Bir. Once, not long since, she thought herself alone;

[bounds; 'Twas then the pent-up anguish burst its With broken voice, clasp'd hands, and stream

ing eyes,

She call'd upon her father, call'd him cruel,
And said her duty claim'd far other recompense.
Edr. Perhaps the absence of the good Lord
Raby,

Who, at her nuptials, quitted this fair castle,
Resigning it to her, may thus afflict her.
Hast thou e'er question'd her, good Birtha?
Bir. Often,

But hitherto in vain; and yet she shows me
The endearing kindness of a sister's love;
But if I speak of Douglas-

Edr. See! he comes.

It would offend him should he find you here. Enter DOUGLAS.

Dou. How! Edric and his sister in close con-
ference?

Do they not seem alarm'd at my approach?
And see, how suddenly they part! Now Edric,
[Exit BIRTHA.
Was this well done? or was it like a friend,
When I desir'd to meet thee here alone,
With all the warmth of trusting confidence,
To lay my bosom naked to thy view,
And show thee all its weakness, was it well
To call thy sister here, to let her witness
Thy friend's infirmity ?-perhaps to tell her-
Edr. My lord, I nothing know; I came to
learn.

Dou. Nay then thou dost suspect there's
something wrong?

Edr. If we were bred from infancy together, If I partook in all thy youthful griefs, And every joy thou knew'st was doubly mine, Then tell me all the secret of thy soul: Or have these few short months of separation, The only absence we have ever known, Have these so rent the bands of love asunder, That Douglas should distrust his Edric's truth? Dou. My friend, I know thee faithful as thou'rt brave,

And I will trust thee but not now, good Edric. "Tis past, 'tis gone, it is not worth the telling, 'Twas wrong to cherish what disturb'd my peace;

I'll think of it no more.

Edr. Transporting news!

oaths;

A knight is bound by more than vulgar ties, And perjury in thee were doubly damn'd. Well then, the king of England

Edr. Is expected

From distant Palestine.

Don. Forbid it, Heaven!
For with him comes-
Edr. Ah! who?
Dou. Peace, peace,
For see Elwina's here.
When next we meet,
Farewell.

Retire, my Edric; thou shalt know all. [Exit EDRIC. Now to conceal with care my bosom's anguish, And let her beauty chase away my sorrows! Yes, I would meet her with a face of smilesBut 'twill not be.

Enter ELWINA.

Elw. Alas, 'tis ever thus !

Thus ever clouded is his angry brow. [Aside. Dou. I were too bless'd, Elwina, could I hope You met me here by choice, or that your bosom Shar'd the warm transports mine must ever feel At your approach.

Elw. My lord, if I intrude,

The cause which brings me claims at least forgiveness":

I fear you are not well, and come, unbidden,
Except by faithful duty to inquire,
If haply in my power, my little power
I have the means to minister relief
To your affliction?

Dou. What unwonted goodness!

I were bless'd above the lot of man, If tenderness, not duty, brought Elwina; Cold, ceremonious, and unfeeling duty, That wretched substitute for love: but know, The heart demands a heart; nor will be paid With less than what it gives. E'en now, Elwina, [eyes, The glistening tear stands trembling in your Which cast their mournful sweetness on the ground,

As if they fear'd to raise their beams to mine,
And read the language of reproachful love.
Elw. My lord, hop'd the thousand daily
Of my obedience-
[proofs

Dou. Death to all my hopes! Heart-rending word!-obedience! what's obedience?

'Tis fear, 'tis hate, 'tis terror, 'tis aversion,
'Tis the cold debt of ostentatious duty,
Paid with insulting caution, to remind me
How much you tremble to offend a tyrant
So terrible as Douglas.-O, Elwina-
While duty measures the regard it owes
With scrupulous precision and nice justice,

In secret I have watch'd

Dou. Ha! watch'd in secret?

A spy, employ'd, perhaps, to note my actions.
What have I said? Forgive me, thou art noble:
Yet do not press me to disclose my grief,
For when thou know'st it, I perhaps shall hate
thee

As much, my Edric, as I hate myself
For my suspicions-I am ill at ease.

Edr. How will the fair Elwina grieve to hear

it!

Dou. Hold, Edric, hold-thou hast touch'd the fatal string

That wakes me into madness. Hear me then,
But let the deadly secret be secur'd
With bars of adamant in thy close breast.

Gives, like a thoughtless prodigal, its all, And trembles then, lest it has done too little.

Elw. Indeed I'm most unhappy that my cares, And my solicitude to please, offend.

Dou. True tenderness is less solicitous, Less prudent and more fond; the enamour'd heart,

Conscious it loves, and bless'd in being lov'd,
Reposes on the object it adores,

And trusts the passion it inspires and feels.—
Thou hast not learn'd how terrible it is
To feed a hopeless flame.-But hear, Elwina,
Thou most obdurate, hear me.—

Elw. Say, my lord,

For your own lips shall vindicate my fame, Since at the altar I became your wife,

Can malice charge me with an act, a word,
I ought to blush at? Have I not still liv'd
As open to the eye of observation,
As fearless innocence should ever live?
I call attesting angels to be witness,
If in my open deed, or secret thought, [cern'd
My conduct, or my heart, they've aught dis-
Which did not emulate their purity.

Dou. This vindication ere you were accus'd,
This warm defence, repelling all attacks
Ere they are made, and construing casual
words

To formal accusations, trust me, Madam, Shows rather an alarm'd and vigilant spirit, For ever on the watch to guard its secret, Than the sweet calm of fearless innocence. Who talk'd of guilt? Who testified suspicion? Elw. Learn, Sir, that virtue, while 'tis free from blame,

Is modest, lowly, meek, and unassuming; Not apt, like fearful vice, to shield its weak

ness

Beneath the studied pomp of boastful phrase Which swells to hide the poverty it shelters; But, when this virtue feels itself suspected, Insulted, set at nought, its whiteness stain'd, It then grows proud, forgets its humble worth, And rates itself above its real value.

Dou. I did not mean to chide! but think, () think, [heart, What pangs must rend this fearful doting To see you sink impatient of the grave, To feel, distracting thought! to feel you hate me!

Elw. What if the slender thread by which I hold

This poor precarious being soon must break, Is it Elwina's crime, or Heaven's decree?

Yet I shall meet, I trust, the king of terrors, Submissive and resign'd, without one pang, One fond regret, at leaving this gay world."

Dou. Yes, Madam, there is one, one man ador'd,

For whom your sighs will heave, your tears will flow,

For whom this hated world will still be dear, For whom you still would live

Elw. Hold, hold my lord,

What may this mean?

[father,

Disorder'd were his looks, his eyes shot fire; He call'd upon your name with such dis

traction

I fear'd some sudden evil had befallen you. Elw. Not sudden : no; long has the storm been gathering,

Which threatens speedily to burst in ruin
On this devoted head.

Bir. I ne'er beheld

[you, Your gentle soul so ruffled, yet I've mark'd While others thought you happiest of the hapPy,

Bless'd with whate'er the world calls great, or good,

With all that nature, all that fortune gives, I've mark'd you bending with a weight of sor

row.

Elo. O I will tell thee all! thou couldst not find

An hour, a moment in Elwina's life, [den,
When her full heart so long'd to ease its bur-
And pour its sorrows in thy friendly bosom:
Hear then, with pity hear, my tale of wo,
And, O forgive, kind nature, filial piety,
If my presumptuous lips arraign a father!
Yes, Birtha, that belov'd, that cruel father,
Has doom'd me to a life of hopeless anguish,
To die of griet ere half my days are number'd;
Doom'd nie to give my trembling hand to Dou-
glas,
[cy's

"Twas all I had to give-my heart was-PerBir. What do I hear?

Elw. My misery, not my crime. Long since the battle 'twixt the rival houses Of Douglas and of Percy, for whose hate This mighty globe's too small a theatre, One summer's morn my father chas'd the deer On Cheviot Hills, Northumbria's fair domain, Bir. On that fam'd spot where first the feuds commenc'd

Between the earls?

Elw. The same. During the chace, Some of my father's knights receiv'd an insult From the Lord Percy's herdsmen, churlish foresters,

Unworthy of the gentle blood they serv'd.
My father, proud and jealous of his honour,
(Thou know'st the fiery temper of our barons,)
Swore that Northumberland had been con-
cern'd

In this rude outrage, nor would hear of peace,
Or reconcilement, which the Percy offer'd;
But bade me hate, renounce, and banish him.
O! 'twas a task too hard for all my duty:
I strove, and wept; I strove-but still I lov'd.
Bir. Indeed twas most unjust; but say
what follow'd?

Elw. Why should I dwell on the disastrous
tale?

Forbid to see me, Percy soon embark'd
With our great king against the Saracen.
Soon as the jarring kingdoms were at peace,
Earl Douglas, whom till then I ne'er had seen,
Came to this castle; 'twas my hapless fate
To please him.-Birtha! thou can'st tell what
follow'd:

But who shall tell the agonies I felt?
My barbarous father forc'd me to dissolve
The tender vows himself had bid me form-
He dragg'd me trembling, dying, to the altar,
I sigh'd, I struggled, fainted, and complied.
Bir. Did Douglas know, a marriage had

been once

Propos'd 'twixt you and Percy? Elw. If he did,

glas,

dence.

These letters from your father give us notice He will be here to-night-He farther adds, The king's each hour expected.

Elw. How? the king?

Said you, the king?

Dou. And 'tis Lord Raby's pleasure

That you among the foremost bid him welcome. You must attend the court.

Ele. Must I, my lord?

Dou. Now to observe how she receives the news!

[Aside. Elw. I must not, cannot.-By the tender love

You have so oft profess'd for poor Elwina,
Indulge this one request-0 let me stay!
Dou. Enchanting sounds! she does not wish
to go
[Aside.
Elw. The bustling world, the pomp which
waits on greatness,

Ill suits my humble, unambitious soul ;—
Then leave me here, to tread the safer path
Of private life; here, where my peaceful course
Shall be as silent as the shades around me;
Nor shall one vagrant wish be e'er allow'd
To stray beyond the bounds of Raby Castle.
Dou. O music to my ears! [Aside.] Can
you resolve

To hide those wondrous beauties in the shade,
Which rival kings would cheaply buy with

Elw. My lord, retirement is a wife's best And virtue's safest station is retreat. [duty, Dou. My soul's in transports! [Aside.] But can you forego

What wins the soul of woman-admiration? A world, where charms inferior far to yours Only presume to shine when you are absent! Will you not long to meet the public gaze? Long to eclipse the fair, and charm the brave? Elw. These are delights in which the mind partakes not.

Dou. I'll try her farther.

[Aside. [Takes her hand, and looks stedfastly at her as he speaks.

peers,

But reflect once more:
When you shall hear that England's gallant
[glory,
Fresh from the fields of war, and gay with
All vain with conquest, and elate with fame,
When you shall hear these princely youths

contend,

In many a tournament, for beauty's prize;

Of mimic combats and of festive halls,
Of lances shiver'd in the cause of love,
Will you not then repent, then wish your fate,
Your happier fate, had till that hour reserv'd
For some plumed conqueror?
[von
Elw. My fate, my lord,

Is now bound up with yours.
Dou. Here let me kneel-
Yes, I will kneel, and gaze, and weep, and
wonder;

Thou paragon of goodness !—pardon, pardon,
[Kisses her hand.
I am convinc'd-I can no longer doubt,
Nor talk, nor hear, nor reason, nor reflect.
-I must retire, and give a loose to joy.
[Erit DOUGLAS.

Bir. The king returns.

Elw. And with him Percy comes!
Bir. You needs must go.
Elw. Shall I solicit ruin,

And puli destruction on me ere its time?
I, who have held it criminal to name him?
I will not go-I disobey thee, Douglas,
But disobey thee to preserve thy honour.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.-The Hall. Enter DOUGLAS, speaking.

[Exeunt.

See that the traitor instantly be seiz'd, And strictly watch'd; let none have access to him.O jealousy, thou aggregate of woes! [one. Were there no hell, thy torments would create 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 [other; Well let her weep her tears are for anO did they fall for me, to dry their streams I'd drain the choicest blood that feeds this heart, [cious. drops I shed were half so pre[He stands in a musing posture.

tears?

Nor think the

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 wel-
[pain,
Which cheer'd the sad, beguil'd the pilgrim's
And made Dependency forget its bonds?
Where is the ancient, hospitable hall,
Whose vaulted roof once rung with harmless
mirth,

come,