Let any other kind of plague o’ertake me,
So I escape the fury of that tongue.
Alic. Thy prayer is heard-I go-but know, proud
Howe'er thou scorn'st the weakness of my sex,
This feeble hand may find the means to reach thee,
Howe'er sublime in pow'r and greatness plac'd,
With royal favour guarded round and grac'd ;
On eagle's wings my rage shall urge her flight,
And hurl thee headlong from thy topmast height;
Then, like thy fate, superior will I sit,
And view thee fall'n, and grov'ling at my feet;
See thy last breath with indignation go,
And tread thee sinking to the shades below.
Lord H. How fierce a fiend is passion! With what
wildness,
What tyranny untam'd it reigns in woman!
Unhappy sex! whose easy, yielding temper
Gives way to ev'ry appetite alike:
And love in their weak bosoms is a rage
As terrible as hate, and as destructive.
But soft ye now-for here comes one, disclaims
Strife and her wrangling train; of equal elements,
Without one jarring atom was she form'd,
And gentleness and joy make up her being,
Forgive me, fair one, if officious friendship
Intrudes on your repose, and comes thus late
To greet you with the tidings of success.
The princely Gloster has vouchsaf'd your hearing,
To-morrow he expects you at the court;
There plead your cause, with never-failing beauty,
Speak all your griefs, and find a full redress.
Jane S. Thus humbly let your lowly servant bend.
[Kneeling,
Thus let me bow my grateful knee to earth,
And bless your noble nature for this goodness.
Lord H. Rise, gentle dame, you wrong my meaning
Think me not guilty of a thought so vain,
To sell my courtesy for thanks like these.
Jane S. "Tis true, your bounty is beyond my speaking: But though my mouth be dumb, my heart shall thank
And when it melts before the throne of mercy,
Mourning and bleeding for my past offences,
My fervent soul shall breathe one pray'r for you,
That heav'n will pay you back, when most you need,
The grace and goodness you have shown to me.
Lord H. If there be aught of merit in my service,
Impute it there, where most 'tis due, to love;
Be kind, my gentle mistress, to my wishes,
And satisfy my panting heart with beauty.
Jane S. Alas! my lord-
Lord H. Why bend thy eyes to earth?
Wherefore these looks of heaviness and sorrow?
Why breathes that sigh, my love? And wherefore falls
This trickling show'r of tears, to stain thy sweetness?
Jane S. If pity dwells within your noble breast
(As sure it does), oh, speak not to me thus.
Lord H. Can I behold thee, and not speak of love?
Ev'n now, thus sadly as thou stand'st before me,
Thus desolate, dejected, and forlorn,
Thy softness steals upon my yielding senses,
Till my soul faints, and sickens with desire;
How canst thou give this motion to my heart,
And hid my tongue be still?
Jane S. Cast round your eyes
Upon the high-born beauties of the court;
Behold, like opening roses, where they bloom,
Sweet to the sense, unsully'd all, and spotless;
There choose some worthy partner of your heart,
To fill your arms and bless your virtuous bed;
Nor turn your eyes this way.
Lord H. What means this peevish, this fantastic change? Where is thy wonted pleasantness of face,
Thy wonted graces, and thy dimpled smiles?
Where hast thou lost thy wit and sportive mirth?
That cheerful heart, which us'd to dance for ever,
And cast a day of gladness all around thee?
Jane S. Yes, I will own I merit the reproach;
And for those foolish days of wanton pride,
My soul is justly humbled to the dust:
All tongues, like yours, are licens'd to upbraid me,
Still to repeat my guilt, to urge my infamy,
And treat me like that abject thing I have been.
Lord H. No more of this dull stuff. "Tis time enough
To whine and mortify thyself with penance,
The present moment claims more gen'rous use;
Thy beauty, night and solitude reproach me,
For having talk'd thus long-come let me press thee,
[Laying hold on her.
Pant on thy bosom, sink into thy arms,
And lose myself in the luxurious flood.
Jane S. Forbear, my lord!-here let me rather die,
[Kneeling. And end my sorrows and my shame for ever. Lord H. Away with this perverseness-'tis too
Nay, if you strive-'tis monstrous affectation!
Jane S. Retire! I beg you leave me
Lord H. Thus to coy it!
With one who knows you too.
Jane S. For mercy's sake
Lord H. Ungrateful woman! Is it thus you pay
Jane S. Abandon me to ruin
Rather than urge me
Lord H. This way to your chamber; [Pulling her.
There if you struggle
Jane S. Help, O gracious heaven!
Help! Save me! Help!
Enter DUMONT; he interposes.
Dum. My lord! for honour's sake
Lord H. Hah! What art thou?-Be gone!
Dum. My duty calls me
To my attendance on my mistress here.
Lord H. Avaunt! base groom
At distance wait, and know thy office better.
The common ties of manhood call me now,
And bid me thus stand up in the defence
Of an oppress'd, unhappy, helpless woman.
Lord H. And dost thou know me, slave?
Dum. Yes, thou proud lord!
I know thee well; know thee with each advantage
Which wealth, or pow'r, or noble birth can give thee.
I know thee too for one who stains those honours,
And blots a long illustrious line of ancestry,
By poorly daring thus to wrong a woman.
Lord H."Tis wondrous well! I see, my saint-like dame,
You stand provided of your braves and ruffians,
To man your cause, and bluster in your brothel.
Dum. Take back the foul reproach, unmanner'd railer!
Nor urge my rage too far, lest thou shouldst find
I have as daring spirits in my blood
As thou or any of thy race e'er boasted;
And though no gaudy titles grac'd my birth,
Yet heav'n that made me honest, made me more
Than ever king did, when he made a lord.
Lord H. Insolent villain! henceforth let this teach [Draws, and strikes him.
The distance 'twixt a peasant and a prince.
Dum. Nay then, my lord, [Drawing] learn you by this, how well
An arm resolv'd can guard its master's life.
[They fight; Dumont disarms Lord Hastings. Lord H. Confusion! baffled by a base-born hind! Dum. Now, haughty sir, where is our difference now? Your life is in my hand, and did not honour,
The gentleness of blood, and inborn virtue
(Howe'er unworthy I may seem to you)
Plead in my bosom, I should take the forfeit.
But wear your sword again; and know, a lord
Oppos'd against a man, is but a man.
Lord H. Curse on my failing hand! your better fortune Has giv'n you vantage o'er me; but perhaps
Your triumph may be bought with dear repentance.
Jane S. Alas! what have you done? Know ye the
The mightiness that waits upon this lord?
Dum. Fear not, my worthiest mistress; 'tis a cause In which heaven's guards shall wait you. Pursue the sacred counsels of your soul, Which urge you on to virtue;
Assisting angels shall conduct your steps,
Bring you to bliss, and crown your days with peace.
Jane S. O that my head were laid, my sad eyes clos'd,
And my cold corse wound in my shroud to rest!
My painful heart will never cease to beat,
Will never know a moment's peace till then.
Dum. Would you be happy, leave this fatal place;
Fly from the court's pernicious neighbourhood;
Where innocence is sham'd, and blushing modesty
Is made the scorner's jest; where hate, deceit,
And deadly ruin, wear the masks of beauty,
And draw deluded fools with shows of pleasure.
Jane S. Where should I fly, thus helpless and forlorn,
Of friends, and all the means of life bereft?
Dum. Belmour, whose friendly care still wakes to serve you,
Has found you out a little peaceful refuge,
Far from the court and the tumultuous city.
Within an ancient forest's ample verge,
There stands a lonely but a healthful dwelling,
Built for convenience and the use of life:
Around it fallows, meads, and pastures fair,
A little garden, and a limpid brook,
By nature's own contrivance seem'd dispos'd;
No neighbours, but a few poor simple clowns,
Honest and true, with a well-meaning priest:
No faction, or domestic fury's rage,
Did e'er disturb the quiet of that place,
When the contending nobles shook the land
With York and Lancaster's disputed sway.
Your virtue there may find a safe retreat
From the insulting pow'rs of wicked greatness.
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