Enter a SERVANT, L.

Serv. (L.) One from the court.

Lord Hastings (as I think), demands my lady.

[Crosses, and exit, R. Alic. (c.) Hastings! Be still, my heart, and try to

meet him,

With his own arts! with falsehood-But he comes.

Lord Hastings, L. speaking without to a Servant.

Has. [Enters L.] Dismiss my train, and wait alone without.

Alicia here! Unfortunate encounter.

But be it as it may.

Alic. (c.) When humbly, thus,

The great descend to visit the afflicted,

When thus, unmindful of their rest, they come
To sooth the sorrows of the midnight mourner,
Comfort comes with them; like the golden sun,
Dispels the sullen shades with her sweet influence,
And cheers the melancholy house of care.

Has. (L. c.) "Tis true I would not over-rate a cour-
tesy,

Nor let the coldness of delay hang on it,

To nip and blast its favour like a frost;

But rather chose, at this late hour, to come,

That your fair friend may know I have prevail'd;

- The lord protector has receiv'd her suit,

And means to show her grace.

Alic. My friend! my lord..

Has. Yes, lady, yours; none has a right more ample To task my pow'r than you.

Alic. I want the words,

To pay you back a compliment so courtly;
But my heart guesses at the friendly meaning,
And wou'dn't die your debtor.

Has. "Tis well, madam.

But I would see your friend.

Alic. O, thou false lord!

I would be mistress of my heaving heart,

Stifle this rising rage, and learn from thee
To dress my face in easy, dull indiff 'rence;

But 'twou'dn't be; my wrongs will tear their way,
And rush at once upon thee.

Has. Are you wise?

Have you the use of reason? Do you wake?
What means this raving, this transporting passion?
Alic. O, thou cool traitor! thou insulting tyrant!
Dost thou behold my poor, distracted heart,
Thus rent with agonizing love and rage,

And ask me what it means? Art thou not false?
Am I not scorn'd, forsaken, and abandon'd;
Left, like a common wretch, to shame and infamy;
Giv'n up to be the sport of villains' tongues,
Of laughing parasites, and lewd buffoons?
And all because my soul has doated on thee

With love, with truth, and tenderness unutterable! Has. (c.) Are these the proofs of tenderness and love?

These endless quarrels, discontents, and jealousies,
These never-ceasing wailings and complainings,
These furious starts, these whirlwinds of the soul,
Which every other moment rise to madness?

Alic. (L. c.) What proof, alas! have I not giv'n of love?

What have I not abandon'd to thy arms?
Have I not set at nought my noble birth,
A spotless fame, and an unblemish'd race,
The peace of innocence, and pride of virtue?
My prodigality has given thee all;
And now I've nothing left me to bestow,
You hate the wretched bankrupt you have made.
Has. Why am I thus pursu'd from place to place,
Kept in the view, and cross'd at every turn?
In vain I fly, and, like a hunted deer,
Scud o'er the lawns, and hasten to the covert :
E'er I can reach my safety, you o'ertake me
With the swift malice of some keen reproach,
And drive the winged shaft deep in my heart.
Alic. Hither you fly, and here you seek repose;
Spite of the poor deceit, your arts are known,
Your pious, charitable, midnight visits.

[Crosses to his R.

Has. If you are wise, and prize your peace of mind, Yet take the friendly counsel of my love; Believe me true, nor listen to your jealousy. Let not that devil, which undoes your sex, That cursed curiosity seduce you,

To hunt for needless secrets, which, neglected,
Shall never hurt your quiet; but once known,

4

Shall sit upon your heart, pinch it with pain,
And banish the sweet sleep for ever from you.
Go to-be yet advis'd-

Alic. Dost thou in scorn

Preach patience to my rage, and bid me tamely
Sit like a poor, contented idiot down,
Nor dare to think thou'st wrong'd me?

thee,

Ruin seize

And swift perdition overtake thy treachery.
Have I the least remaining cause to doubt?
Hast thou endeavoured once to hide thy falsehood?
To hide it might have spoke some little tenderness,
And shown thee half unwilling to undo me :
But thou disdains't the weakness of humanity.
Thy words, and all thy actions, have confess'd it;
Ev'n now thy eyes avow it, now they speak,
And insolently own the glorious villainy.

Has. (L. C.) Well then, I own my heart has broke your chains.

Patient I bore the painful bondage long,

At length my gen'rous love disdains your tyranny ;
The bitterness and stings of taunting jealousy,
Vexatious days, and jarring, joyless nights,
Have driv'n him forth to seek some safer shelter,
Where he may rest his weary wings in peace.

Alic. You triumph! do! and with gigantic pride
Defy impending vengeance. Heav'n shall wink;
No more his arm shall roll the dreadful thunder,
Nor send his lightnings forth: no more his justice
Shall visit the presuming sons of men,

But perjury, like thine, shall dwell in safety.

Has. Whate'er my fate decrees for me hereafter,

Be present to me now, my better angel!

Preserve me from the storm that threatens now,
And if I have beyond atonement sinn'd,

Let any other kind of plague o'ertake me,

So I escape the fury of that tongue.

Alic. Thy prayer is heard-I go-[Crosses to L.]—
but know, proud lord,

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.
Has. (c.) How fierce a fiend is passion!

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.

[Exit, L. With what

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.

Enter JANE SHORE, R.

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. (R. c.) Thus humbly let your lowly servant

bend.

Thus let me bow my grateful knee to earth,
And bless your noble nature for this goodness.

[Kneels.

Has. (B. c.) Rise, gentle dame, you wrong my mean

ing much,

Think me not guilty of a thought so vain,

To sell my courtesy for thanks like these.

[Raises her.

Jane S. 'Tis true, your bounty is beyond my speak

ing;

But though my mouth be dumb, my heart shall thank

you;

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.
Has. 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-

Has. 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.

Has. 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 bid my tongue be still?

Jane S. Cast round your eyes

Upon the high-born beauties of the court;
Behold, like opening roses, where thy 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.

Has. 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.

Has. 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,

[Lays hold on her. Jane S. Forbear, my lord!-here let me rather die,

[Kneels.

And end my sorrows and my shame for ever.