A noble recompense. I understood Man. 'Tis often thus. I would have left him many years ago, But that with all his faults there sometimes come To serve him still.-And then his sister too, Man. No, he departed all unknown to her, Jer. All this is strange-something disturbs his Belike he is in love. Man. No, Jerome, no. Once on a time I served a noble master, Whose youth was blasted with untoward love, Jer. Hear I not horses trampling at the gate? [Listening. He is arrived-stay thou-I had forget- [Exit hastily.-A great bustle without.-Exit Man. Your ancient host, my lord, receives you gladly, And your apartment will be soon prepared. De Mon. 'Tis well. Man. Where shall I place the chest you gave in charge? So please you, say my lord. De Mon [Throwing himself into a chair.] Wheree'er thou wilt. Man. I would not move that luggage till you came. [Pointing to certain things. De Mon. Move what thou wilt, and trouble me no more. [MANUEL, with the assistance of other SERVANTS, sets about putting the things in order, and DE MONFORT remains sitting in a thoughtful posture. Enter JEROME, bearing Wine, &c. on a Salver. As he approaches DE MONFORT, MANUEL pulls him by the Sleeve. Man. Aside to JEROME.] No, do not now; he will not be disturb'd. Jer. What, not to bid him welcome to my house, And offer some refreshment? Man. No, good Jerome. Softly a little while: I pr'ythee do. JEROME walks softly on tiptoes, till he gets behind DE MONFORT, then peeping on one side to see his face. Jer. [Aside to MANUEL.] Ah, Manuel, what an His eyes are hollow, and his cheeks are pale- Man. 'Tis your old landlord, sir. Jer. I joy to see you here-I crave your pardon→→→→ I fear I do intrude.. De Mon. No, my kind host, I am obliged to thee. De Mon. Well enough. Jer. Here is a little of the fav'rite wine That you were wont to praise. Pray honour me. [Fills a glass. De Mon. [After drinking.] I thank you, Jerome, 'tis delicious. Jer. Ay, my dear wife did ever make it so. De Mon. And how does she? Jer. Alas, my lord! she's dead. De Mon. Well, then she is at rest. Jer. How well, my lord! De Mon. Is she not with the dead, the quiet dead, Where all is peace? Not e'en the impious wretch, Who tears the coffin from its earthly vault, And strews the mould'ring ashes to the wind, Can break their rest. Jer. Woe's me! I thought you would have grieved for her. She was a kindly soul! Before she died, And but the morning ere she breathed her last, His cup might sparkle still. [DE MONFORT walks across the stage, and wipes his eyes. Indeed I fear I have distress'd you, sir; I surely thought you would be grieved for her. De Mon. [Taking JEROME's hand.] I am, my friend. How long has she been dead? Jer. Two sad long years. De Mon. 'Would she were living still! I was too troublesome, too heedless of her. Jer. O no! she loved to serve you. [Loud knocking without. De Mon. What fool comes here, at such untimely hours, To make this cursed noise? [To MANUEL.] Go to the gate. All sober citizens are gone to bed; [Exit MANUEL. It is some drunkards on their nightly rounds, Jer. I hear unusual voices-here they come. Enter MANUEL, showing in COUNT FREBERG and his LADY. Freb. [Running to embrace DE MONFORT.] My dearest Monfort! most unlook'd-for pleasure! Do I indeed embrace thee here again? I saw thy servant standing by the gate, His face recall'd, and learnt the joyful tidings. De Mon. I thank thee, Freberg, for this friendly visit, And this fair lady too. Lady. I fear, my lord, [Bowing to the LADY. We do intrude at an untimely hour: But now returning from a midnight mask, Which doth together bring long absent friends. De Mon. O! many varied thoughts do cross our brain, Which touch the will, but leave the memory track less; And yet a strange compounded motive make Freb. 1 ask no more, happy to see you here De Mon. [Confused.] She is-I have-I left my sister well. Lady. [To FREBERG.] My Freberg, you are heedless of respect: You surely mean to say the Lady Jane. Freb. Kespect! No, madam; princess, empress, queen, Could not denote a creature so exalted Lady. Turning from him displeased to MONFORT.] Freb. Ha! is it so? My friend, your face is pale, have you been ill? Freb. [Shaking his head.] I fear thou hast not, We'll re-establish thee: we'll banish pain. B |