J. Shore. Never! by those chaste lights above I
My soul shall never know pollution more:
Forbear, my lord !-here let me rather die:
Let quick destruction overtake me here,
And end my sorrows and my shame for-ever.
Hast. Away with this perverseness!-'tis too
much.
Nay, if you strive-'tis monstrous affectation!
J. Shore. Retire! I beg you leave me— Hast. This way to your chamber; [Pulling her. There, if you struggle
J. Shore. Help, oh, gracious Heaven!
Help! Save me! Help!
Dum. My, Lord! for honour's sake-
Hast. Ha! What art thou ?-Begone!
Dum. My duty calls me
To my attendance on my mistress here.
Hast. Avaunt! base groom-
At distance wait, and know thy office better.
Dum. No, my lord-
The common ties of manhood call me now,
And bid me thus stand up in the defence
Of an oppress'd, unhappy, helpless woman.
Hast. And dost thou know me, slave?
Dum. Yes, thou proud lord!
I know thee well; know thee with each advantage
Which wealth, or power, 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.
Hast. "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 graced my birth,
Yet Heav'n, that made me honest, made me more
Than ever king did, when he made a lord.
Hast. 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 resolved can guard its master's life.
[They fight; DUMONT disarms LORD HASTINGS.
Hast. 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
Opposed against a man, is but a man.
Hast. Curse on my failing hand! your better for
Has given you 'vantage o'er me; but perhaps Your triumph may be bought with dear repentance. [Exit HASTINGS,
J. Shore. Alas! what have you done? Know ye
The mightiness, that waits upon this lord?
Dum. Fear not, my worthiest mistress;
In which Heaven's guards shall wait you.
Pursue the sacred counsels of your soul,
Which urge you on to virtue; let not danger,
Nor the encumb❜ring world, make faint your purpose!
Assisting angels shall conduct your steps,
Bring you to bliss, and crown your days with peace. J. Shore. O, that my head were laid, my sad eyes closed,
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 shamed, and blushing modesty. Is made the scorner's jest.
J. Shore. 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 disposed.
Your virtue there may find a safe retreat
From the insulting powers of wicked greatness.
J. Shore. Can there be so much happiness in store!
A cell like that is all my hopes aspire to.
Haste, then, and thither let us take our flight,
Ere the clouds gather, and the wintry sky
Descends in storms to intercept our passage.
Dum. Will you then go? You glad my very soul. Banish your fears, cast all your cares on me; Plenty and ease, and peace of mind, shall wait you,
And make your latter days of life most happy.
O, lady!—but I must not, cannot tell you
How anxious I have been for all your dangers,
And how my heart rejoices at your safety.
So when the spring renews the flow'ry field,
And warns the pregnant nightingale to build,
She seeks the safest shelter of the wood,
Where she may trust her little tuneful brood;
Where no rude swains her shady cell may know,
No serpents climb, nor blasting winds may blow;
Fond of the chosen place, she views it o'er,
Sits there, and wanders through the grove no more;
Warbling she charms it each returning night,
And loves it with a mother's dear delight. [Exeunt.
Enter ALICIA, with a Paper,
Alicia. This paper to the great Protector's hand,
With care and secrecy, must be convey'd ;
His bold ambition now avows its aim,
To pluck the crown from Edward's infant brow,
And fix it on his own. I know he holds
My faithless Hastings adverse to his hopes,
And much devoted to the orphan king;
On that I build this paper meets his doubts,
And marks my hated rival as the cause
Of Hastings' zeal for his dead master's sons.-
Oh, jealousy! thou bane of pleasing friendship,
How does thy rancour poison all our softness,
And turn our gentle natures into bitterness!
See where she comes! once my heart's dearest bless-
ing,
Now my changed eyes are blasted with her beauty,
Loath that known face, and sicken to behold her.
J. Shore. Now whither shall I fly to find relief? What charitable hand will aid me now?
Will stay my failing steps, support my ruin, And heal my wounded mind with balmy comfort? my Alicia!
Alicia. What new grief is this?
What unforeseen misfortune has surprised thee,
That thus racks thy tender heart?
J. Shore. O, Dumont!
Alicia. Say, what of him?
J. Shore. That friendly, honest man,
Whom Belmour brought of late to my assistance,
On whose kind care, whose diligence and faith,
My surest truth was built, this very morn
Was seized on by the cruel hand of power,
Forced from my house, and borne away to prison.
Alicia. To prison, said you? Can you guess the
cause ?
J. Shore. Too well, I fear. His bold defence of me Has drawn the vengeance of Lord Hastings on him. Alicia. Lord Hastings! Ha!
J. Shore. Some fitter time must tell thee
The tale of my hard hap. Upon the present
Hang all my poor, my last remaining hopes.
Within this paper is my suit contain'd;
Here, as the princely Gloster passes forth,
I wait to give it on my humble knees,
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