Enter a group of LADIES from the other apartment, who walk slowly across the bottom of the stage, and return to it again. KEZ. shrugs up his shoulders, as if unwil ling to go.

comes,

Whose noble air doth challenge fancy's skill

To suit it with a countenance as goodly.

I thus appear, (pointing to her veil,) not careless of respect

Unto the generous lady of the feast.

Beneath this veil no beauty shrouded is,
That, now, or pain or pleasure can bestow.
Within the friendly cover of its shade
I only wish, unknown, again to see
One who, alas! is heedless of my pain.

De Mon. Yes, it is ever thus. Undo that veil,
And give thy countenance to the cheerful light.
Men now all soft, and female beauty scorn,
And mock the gentle cares which aim to please.
It is most damnable! undo thy veil,

And think of him no more.

Jane. I know it well, even to a proverb grown,
Is lovers' faith, and I had borne such slight:
But he, who has, alas! forsaken me,
Was the companion of my early days,
My cradle's mate, mine infant play fellow.
Within our opening minds, with riper years,
The love of praise and generous virtue sprung:
Through varied life our pride, our joys were one;
At the same tale we wept: he is my brother.
De Mon. And he forsook thee?—No, I dare not
curse him:

My heart upbraids me with a crime like his.
Jane. Ah! do not thus distress a feeling heart.
All sisters are not to the soul entwined

With equal bans; thine has not watch'd for thee,
Wept for thee, cheer'd thee, shared thy weal and

Wo,

As I have done for him.

De Mon. (eagerly.) Ah! has she not? By heaven! the sum of all thy kindly deeds Were but as chaff poised against massy gold, Compared to that which I do owe her love. O pardon me! I mean not to offend-

am too warm-but she of whom I speak Is the dear sister of my earliest love; In noble, virtuous worth to none a second: And though behind those sable folds were hid As fair a face as ever woman own'd, Still would I say she is as fair as thou. How oft amidst the beauty-blazing throng,

Jane. (Off her guard, in a soft natural tone of voice.) O no! nor do me any.

De Mon. What voice speaks now? Withdraw, withdraw this shade!

For if thy face bear semblance to thy voice, I'll fall and worship thee. Pray! pray undo! (Puts forth his hand eagerly to snatch away the veil, whilst she shrinks back, and Rezenvelt steps between to prevent him.)

Rez. Stand off: no hand shall lift this sacred

veil.

De Mon. What, dost thou think De Monfort fall'n

so low,

That there may live a man beneath heaven's roof, Who dares to say, he shall not?

Rez. He lives who dares to say

Jane. (throwing back her veil, much alarmed, ana rushes between them.) Forbear, forbear! (Rezervelt, very much struck, steps back respectfully, and makes her a low bow. De Monfort stands for a while motionless, gazing upon her, till she, looking erpressively to him, extends her arms, and he, rushing into them, bursts into tears. Freberg seems very much pleased. The company then advancing from the inner apartment, gather about them, and the Scene closes.)

Enter DE MONFORT, with a disordered air, and his hand pressed upon his forehead, followed by JANE.

De Mon. No more, my sister, urge me not again: My secret troubles cannot be reveal'd. From all participation of its thoughts My heart recoils: I pray thee be contented.

Jane. What, must I, like a distant humble friend, Observe thy restless eye, and gait disturb'd, In timid silence, whilst with yearning heart I turn aside to weep? O no! De Monfort! A nobler task thy nobler mind will give; Thy true intrusted friend I still shall be.

De Mon. Ah, Jane, forbear! I cannot e'en to

thee.

Jane. Then, fy upon it! fy upon it, Monfort! There was a time when e'en with murder stain'd, Had it been possible that such dire deed

Could e'er have been the crime of one so piteous, Thou wouldst have told it me.

De Mon. So would I now-but ask of this no

more.

All other trouble but the one I feel

I had disclosed to thee. I pray thee spare me; It is the secret weakness of my nature.

Jane. Then secret let it be; I urge no farther. The eldest of our valiant father's hopes, So sadly orphan'd, side by side we stood,

I could endure it. But when honours came, And wealth and new-got titles fed his pride;

praise,

And grovelling idiots grinn'd applauses on him;
O! then I could no longer suffer it!

It drove me frantic.-What! what would I give!
What would I give to crush the bloated toad,
So rankly do I loathe him!

Jane. And would thy hatred crush the very man
Who gave to thee that life he might have ta'en?
That life which thou so rashly didst expose
To aim at his ? O! this is horrible!

De Mon. Ha! thou hast heard it, then? From all the world,

But most of all from thee, I thought it hid.
Jane. I heard a secret whisper, and resolved
Upon the instant to return to thee.
Didst thou receive my letter?

De Mon. I did! I did! 'twas that which drove me hither.

I could not bear to meet thine eye again.

Jane. Alas! that, tempted by a sister's tears,
I ever left thy house! These few past months,
These absent months, have brought us all this wo.
Had I remain'd with thee it had not been.
And yet, methinks, it should not move you thus.
You dared him to the field; both bravely fought;
He, more adroit, disarm'd you; courteously
Return'd the forfeit sword, which, so return'd,
You did refuse to use against him more;
And then, as says report, you parted friends.
De Mon. When he disarm'd this cursed, this
worthless hand

Of its most worthless weapon, he but spared
From devilish pride, which now derives a bliss
In seeing me thus fetter'd, shamed, subjected
With the vile favour of his poor forbearance;
Whilst he securely sits with gibing brow,
And basely bates me like a muzzled cur
Who cannot turn again.-

Until that day, till that accursed day,

I knew not half the torment of this hell, Which burns within my breast. Heaven's lightnings blast him!

Jane. O this is horrible! Forbear, forbear!
Lest Heaven's vengeance light upon thy head,
For this most impious wish.

De Mon.
Then let it light.
Torments more fell than I have felt already
It cannot send. To be annihilated,

What all men shrink from; to be dust, be nothing,
Were bliss to me, compared to what I am!

Jane. O wouldst thou kill me with these dreadful words?

Look on me yet again.

In better days, wert wont to be my pride.
De Mon. I am a wretch, most wretched in my-
self,

And still more wretched in the pain I give.
O curse that villain! that detested villain!
He has spread misery o'er my fated life:
He will undo us all.

Jane. I've held my warfare through a troubled world,

And borne with steady mind my share of ill;
And then the helpmate of my toil wert thou.
But now the wane of life comes darkly on,
And hideous passion tears me from my heart,
Blasting thy worth.-I cannot strive with this.
De Mon. (affectionately.) What shall I do?
Jane.
Call up thy noble spirit;
Rouse all the generous energy of virtue;
And with the strength of heaven-endued man,
Repel the hideous foe. Be great; be valiant.
O, if thou couldst! e'en shrouded as thou art
In all the sad infirmities of nature,

What a most noble creature wouldst thou be!
De Mon. Ay, if I could: alas! alas! I cannot.
Jane. Thou canst, thou mayst, thou wilt.
We shall not part till I have turn'd thy soul.

Enter MANUEL.

De Mon. Ha! some one enters. Wherefore comest thou here?

Man. Count Freberg waits your leisure. De Mon. (angrily.) Be gone, be gone! I cannot see him now. [EXIT Manuel.

Jane. Come to my closet; free from all intrusion, I'll school thee there; and thou again shalt be My willing pupil, and my generous friend, The noble Monfort I have loved so long, And must not, will not lose.

De Mon. Do as thou wilt; I will not grieve thee [EXEUNT.

more.

ACT III.

SCENE I.-COUNTESS FREBERG'S DRESSING-ROOM. Enter the COUNTESS dispirited and out of humour, and throws herself into a chair: enter, by the opposite side, THERESA.

Ther. Madam, I am afraid you are unwell: What is the matter? does your head ache? Lady. (peevishly.)

but once upon his ruin look,

Then close mine eyes for ever!

Jane in great distress, staggers back, and supports herself upon the side scene. De Mon. alarmed, runs up to her with a softened voice.)

Ha! how is this? thou'rt ill; thou'rt very pale.
What have I done to thee? Alas, alas!
I meant not to distress thee.-O my sister!
Jane. (shaking her head.) I cannot speak to thee.

With what concerns not thee. Ther. Go you abroad to-night?

No,

Lady. Yes, thinkest thou I'll stay and fret at home?

Ther. Then please to say what you would choose to wear :One of your newest robes ? Lady.

I hate them all. Ther. Surely that purple scarf became you well, With all those wreaths of richly hanging flowers.

Did I not overhear them say, last night,

As from the crowded ball-room ladies past, How gay and handsome, in her costly dress, The Countess Freberg look'd?

Lady.

Ther. I did, and more than this.

If she o'erheard her own request neglected,
Until supported by a name more potent?
Freb. Think'st thou she is a fool, my good The-

resa,

Lady. Well, all are not so greatly prejudiced; All do not think me like a May-day queen, Which peasants deck in sport.

Ther.

And who said this? Lady. (putting her handkerchief to her eyes.) F'en my good lord, Theresa.

Ther. He said it but in jest. He loves you well.
Lady. I know as well as thou he loves me well.
But what of that! he takes in me no pride:
Elsewhere his praise and admiration go,
And Jane De Monfort is not mortal woman.
Ther. The wondrous character this lady bears
For worth and excellence: from early youth
The friend and mother of her younger sisters,
Now greatly married, as I have been told,
From her most prudent care, may well excuse
The admiration of so good a man

As my good master is. And then, dear madam,
I must confess, when I myself did hear

How she was come through the rough winter's storm,

To seek and comfort an unhappy brother,
My heart beat kindly to her.

Lady. Ay, ay, there is a charm in this I find:
But wherefore may she not have come as well
Through wintry storms to seek a lover, too?

Ther. No, madam, no, I could not think of this. Lady. That would reduce her in your eyes, mayhap,

To woman's level.-Now I see my vengeance!
I'll tell it round that she is hither come,
Under pretence of finding out De Monfort,

To meet with Rezenvelt. When Freberg hears it,
Twill help, I ween, to break his magic charm.
Ther. And say what is not, madam?

Re-enter LADY, with great violence. Lady. I am a fool, not to have seen full well, That thy best pleasure in o'errating so This lofty stranger is to humble me, And cast a darkening shadow o'er my head. Ay, wherefore dost thou stare upon me thus Art thou ashamed that I have thus surprised thee? Well mayst thou be so !

Freb.
True; thou rightly say'st.
Well may I be ashamed: not for the praise
Which I have ever openly bestowed

On Monfort's noble sister; but that thus,
Like a poor, mean, and jealous listener,
She should be found, who is Count Freberg's wife.
Lady. O, I am lost and ruin'd! hated, scorn'd!
(Pretending to faint.)

Freb. Alas, I've been too rough!

(Taking her hand and kissing it tenderly.) My gentle love! my own, my only love! See, she revives again. How art thou, love? Support her to her chamber, good Theresa, I'll sit and watch by her. I've been too rough.

[EXEUNT Lady, supported by Freb. and Ther.

SCENE II.-DE MONFORT DISCOVERED SITTING BY A TABLE READING. AFTER A LITTLE TIME, HE LAYS DOWN HIS BOOK, AND CONTINUES IN A THOUGHTFUL POSTURE.

Enter to him JANE DE MONFORT. Jane. Thanks, gentle brother

(Pointing to the book.)

what is not ?

Tis like enough I shall but speak the truth.

Ther. Ah no! there isLady. Well, hold thy foolish tongue. (Freberg's voice is heard without. After hesitating.)

I will not see him now.

Enter FREBERG by the opposite side, passing on hastily. Ther. Pardon, my lord; I fear you are in haste. Yet must I crave that you will give to me The books my lady mentioned to you: she Has charged me to remind you.

Freb. I'm in haste.

(Passing on.)

All, all, my brother!
It bids thee too that noble precept learn,
To love thine enemy.

De Mon. Th' uplifted stroke that would a wretch

destroy,

Gorged with my richest spoil, stain'd with my

blood,

I would arrest, and cry, "Hold! hold! have mer cy."

But when the man most adverse to my nature

Who e'en from childhood hath, with rude malevolence,

Withheld the fair respect all paid beside,

Turning my very praise into derision;
Who galls and presses me where'er I go,

Would claim the generous feelings of my heart,
Nature herself doth lift her voice aloud,

And cries, "It is impossible!"

De Mon. His lady too! why comes he not alone? Must all the world stare upon our meeting?

Enter Count FREBERG and his COUNTESS. Freb. A happy morrow to my noble marquis And his most noble sister! Generous Freberg,

Jane.

Your face, methinks, forbodes a happy morn,

sting,

But hate his loathsome self.

Jane. And canst thou do no more for love of heaven?

De Mon. Alas! I cannot now so school my mind
As holy men have taught, nor search it truly:
But this, my Jane, I'll do for love of thee:
And more it is than crowns could win me to,
Or any power but thine. I'll see the man.
Th' indignant risings of abhorrent nature;
The stern contraction of my scowling brows,
That, like the plant whose closing leaves do shrink
At hostile touch, still knit at his approach;
The crooked curving lip, by instinct taught,
In imitation of disgustful things,

To pout and swell, I strictly will repress;
And meet him with a tamed countenance,
E'en as a townsman, who would live at peace,
And pay him the respect his station claims.
I'll crave his pardon too for all offence
My dark and wayward temper may have done.
Nay more, I will confess myself his debtor
For the forbearance I have cursed so oft:
Life spared by him, more horrid than the grave
With all its dark corruption! This I'll do.
Will it suffice thee? More than this I cannot.
Jane. No more than this do I require of thee
In outward act, though in thy heart, my friend,
I hoped a better change, and still will hope.
I told thee Freberg had proposed a meeting.
De Mon. I know it well.
Jane.

And Rezenvelt consents.

He meets you here; so far he shows respect.

my worthy friend,

Give me your hand; this happy change delights

me.

(De Monfort gives him his hand coldly, and they walk to the bottom of the stage together, in earnest discourse, whilst Jane and the Countess remain in the front.)

Lady. My dearest madam, will you pardon me? I know Count Freberg's business with De Monfort, And had a strong desire to visit you,

So much I wish the honour of your friendship;
For he retains no secret from mine ear.
Jane. (archly.) Knowing your prudence-You
are welcome, madam ;

So shall Count Freberg's lady ever be.
(De Monfort and Freberg, returning toward the
front of the stage, still engaged in discourse.)
Freb. He is indeed a man, within whose breast
Firm rectitude and honour hold their seat,
Though unadorned with that dignity

Which were their fittest garb. Now, on my life! I know no truer heart than Rezen velt.

De Mon. Well, Freberg, well, there needs not all this pains

To garnish out his worth: let it suffice;
I am resolved I will respect the man,
As his fair station and repute demand.
Methinks I see not at your jolly feasts
The youthful knight, who sung so pleasantly.
Freb. A pleasant circumstance detains him

hence;

better.

Jane. I'm glad to hear you say so, for, in truth, He has proposed for it an early hour. 'Tis almost near his time; I came to tell you. De Mon. What, comes he here so soon? shame on his speed!

It is not decent thus to rush upon me.
He loves the secret pleasure he will feel
To see me thus subdued.

Jane. O say not so! he comes with heart sincere. De Mon. Could we not meet elsewhere? from home-i' the fields,

Where other men-must I alone receive him?
Where is your agent, Freberg, and his friends,
That I must meet him here?

(Walks up and down very much disturbed.) Now didst thou say?-how goes the hour?-e'en now!

Yet must I tell it thee.

This knight is near akin to Rezervelt,

To whom an old relation, short while dead,
A good estate bequeathed, some leagues distant.
But Rezenvelt, now rich in fortune's store,
Disdain'd the sordid love of further gain,
And generously the rich bequest resign'd
To this young man, blood of the same degree
To the deceased, and low in fortune's gifts,
Who is from hence to take possession of it:
Was it not nobly done?

De Mon.
'Twas right and honourable.
This morning is oppressive, warm, and heavy:
There hangs a foggy closeness in the air;
Dost thou not feel it?

Freb. O no! to think upon a generous deed Expands my soul, and makes me lightly breathe. De Mon. Who gives the feast to-night? His

name escapes me.

dame.

Freb.

Old Count Waterlan.