E

His sovereign served, than I have served you;
But, if my honesty is doubted now,

Let him, who is more faithful, take my place,

And serve you

better.

De Mon. Well, be it as thou wilt. Away with thee. Thy loud-mouth'd boasting is no rule for me To judge thy merit by.

Enter JEROME hastily, and pulls MANUEL away.

Jer. Come, Manuel, come away; thou art not

wise.

The stranger must depart and come again,
For now his honour will not be disturb❜d.

[Exit MANUEL, sulkily.

De Mon. A stranger, saidst thou?

[Drops his handkerchief.

Jer. I did, good sir, but he shall go away;

You shall not be disturb'd.

[Stooping to lift the handkerchief.

You have dropp'd somewhat.

De Mon. [Preventing him.] Nay, do not stoop, my friend! I pray thee not!

Thou art too old to stoop.

I am much indebted to thee.-Take this ring-
I love thee better than I seem to do.

I

pray

thee do it-thank me not.-What stranger? Jer. A man who does most earnestly entreat To see your honour, but I know him not.

De Mon. Then let him enter. [Exit JEROME.

[A Pause.]-Enter GRIMBALD.

You are the stranger who would speak with me?
Grim. I am so far unfortunate, my lord,

That, though my fortune on your favour hangs,
I am to you a stranger.

De Mon. How may this be? What can I do for
you?

1

Grim. Since thus your lordship does so frankly

ask,

The tiresome preface of apology

I will forbear, and tell my tale, at once.—
In plodding drudgery I've spent my youth,
A careful penman in another's office;
And now, my master and employer dead,
They seek to set a stripling o'er my head,
And leave me on to drudge, e'en to old age,
Because I have no friend to take my part.
It is an office in your native town,
For I am come from thence, and I am told
You can procure it for me. Thus, my lord,
From the repute of goodness which you bear,
I have presumed to beg.

De Mon. They have befool'd thee with a false re-
port.

Grim. Alas! I see it is in vain to plead.

Your mind is prepossess'd against a wretch,
Who has, unfortunately for his weal,
Offended the revengeful Rezenvelt.

De Mon. What dost thou say?

Grim. What I, perhaps, had better leave unsaid.
Who will believe my wrongs if I complain?
I am a stranger, Rezenvelt my foe,

Who will believe my wrongs?

De Mon. [Eagerly catching him by the coat.] I will
believe them!

Though they were base as basest, vilest deeds,
In ancient record told, I would believe them.
Let not the smallest atom of unworthiness
That he has put upon thee be conceal'd.
Speak boldly, tell it all; for, by the light!
I'll be thy friend, I'll be thy warmest friend,
If he has done thee wrong.

Grim. Nay, pardon me, it were not well advised,
If I should speak so freely of the man,

Who will so soon your nearest kinsman be.

De Mon. What can'st thou mean by this?
Grim. That Marquis Rezenvelt

Has pledged his faith unto your noble sister,
And soon will be the husband of her choice;
So I am told, and so the world believes.

De Mon. 'Tis false! 'tis basely false !
What wretch could drop from his envenom'd tongue
A tale so damn'd?—It chokes my breath-
[Stamping with his foot.] What wretch did tell it thee?
Grim. Nay every one with whom I have conversed
Has held the same discourse. I judge it not.
But you, my lord, who with the lady dwell,
You best can tell what her deportment speaks;
Whether her conduct and unguarded words
Belie such rumour.

[DE MNOFORT pauses, staggers backwards, and sinks into a chair; then starting up hastily. De Mon. Where am I now ? 'midst all the cursed thoughts

That on my soul like stinging scorpions prey'd,
This never came before- -Oh, if it be!

The thought will drive me mad.—Was it for this
She urged her warm request on bended knee?
Alas! I wept, and thought of sister's love,
No damned love like this.

Fell devil! 'tis hell itself has lent thee aid
To work such sorcery! [Pauses.] I'll not believe it.
I must have proof clear as the noon-day sun
For such foul charge as this! Who waits without?
[Paces up and down furiously agitated.
Grim. [Aside.] What have I done! I've carried
this too far.

I've roused a fierce ungovernable madman.

Enter JEROME.

0 De Mon. [In a loud angry voice.] Where did she go, at such an early hour,

And with such slight attendance?

F

Jer. Of whom enquires your honour?

De Mon. Why, of your lady. Said I not my sister? Jer. The Lady Jane, your sister?

De Mon. [In a faltering voice.] Yes, I did call

her so.

Jer. In truth, I cannot tell you where she went. E'en now, from the short beecher walk hard by, I saw her through the garden-gate return. The Marquis Rezenvelt, and Freberg's countess, Are in her company. This way they come, As being nearer to the back apartments; But I shall stop them, if it be your will, And bid them enter here.

De Mon. No, stop them not. I will remain un

seen,

And mark them as they pass. Draw back a little. [GRIMBALD seems alarmed, and steals off unnoticed. DE MONFORT grasps JEROME tightly by the hand, and drawing back with him two or three steps, not to be seen from the garden, waits in silence with his eyes fixed on the glass door.

De Mon. I hear their footsteps on the grating sand; How like the croaking of a carrion bird

That hateful voice sounds, to the distant ear!

And now she speaks-her voice sounds cheerly too— O curse their mirth !

Now, now, they come, keep closer still! keep steady! [Taking hold of JEROME with both hands.

Jer. My lord, you tremble much.

De Mon. What,-do I shake?

Jer. You do, in truth, and your teeth chatter too. De Mon. See! see they come ! he strutting by her

side.

[JANE, REZENVELT, and Countess Freberg, appear through the glass door, pursuing their way up a short walk leading to the other wing of the house.

See how he turns his odious face to hers!
Utt'ring with confidence some nauseous jest.
And she endures it too-Oh! this looks vilely!
Ha! mark that courteous motion of his arm-
What does he mean?-He dares not take her hand!
[Pauses, and looks eagerly.

By Heaven and hell he does!

[Letting go his hold of JEROME, he throws out his hands vehemently, and thereby pushes him against the scene.

Jer. Öh! I am stunn'd! my head is crack'd in twain:

Your honour does forget how old I am.

De Mon. Well, well, the wall is harder than I wist. Begone! and whine within.

[Exit JEROME, with a sad rueful countenance.
DE MONFORT comes forward to the front of
the stage, and makes a long pause, expressive
of great agony of mind.

It must be so! each passing circumstance;
Her hasty journey here; her keen distress
Whene'er my soul's abhorrence I express'd;
Ay, and that damned reconciliation,

With tears extorted from me: Oh, too well!
All, all too well bespeak the shameful tale.

I should have thought of heaven and hell conjoin'd,
The morning star mix'd with infernal fire,
Ere I had thought of this—

Hell's blackest magic, in the midnight hour,
With horrid spells and incantation dire,
Such combination opposite, unseemly,
Of fair and loathsome, excellent and base,
Did ne'er produce.-But every thing is possible,
So as it may my misery enhance!

Oh! I did love her with such pride of soul!
When other men, in gayest pursuit of love,
Each beauty followed, by her side I stay'd,
Far prouder of a brother's station there,