That I belonged to you; he questioned much, Har. Your noble father Obtained my freedom, having learned from Hubert [To PERCY.] Sir, you had best retire; Per. Should Douglas know! Why, what new magic's in the name of Douglas, Think not 'tis Douglas-'tis- Thou mean'st to tell me 'tis Elwina's husband; Elw. Percy, hear me: - way When I was robbed of all my peace of mind, It was my fame.-'Tis a rich jewel, Percy, But thou wouldst plunder what e'en Douglas spared, Per. Go-thou wast born to rule the fate of Percy. Elw. What noise is that? [HARCOURT goes to the side of the stage. Per. Why art thou thus alarmed? Elw. Alas! I feel The cowardice and terrors of the wicked, Without their sense of guilt. Har. My lord, 'tis Douglas. Elw. Fly, Percy, and forever! Elw. Then stay, barbarian, and at once destroy My life and fame. Per. That thought is death. I go: My honour to thy dearer honour yields. Elw. Yet, thou art not gone! Per. Farewell, farewell! [Exit PERCY. Elw. I dare not meet the searching eye of Douglas. I must conceal my terrors. DOUGLAS at the side, with his sword drawn; EDRIC holds Dou. Give me way. him. Edr. Thou shalt not enter. Dou. [Struggling with EDRIC.] If there were no hell, It would defraud my vengeance of its edge, And she should live. [Breaks from EDRIC, and comes forward. Cursed chance! he is not here. Elw. [Going.] I dare not meet his fury. Dou. See! she flies With every mark of guilt.-Go, search the bower, [Aside to EDRIC. He shall not thus escape. Madam, return. [Aloud. [Aside. [With affected composure. Elw. My lord, 'twas Harcourt; sure, you must have met him. Dou. O exquisite dissembler! [Aside.] No one else! Elw. My lord! Dou. How I enjoy her criminal confusion! You tremble, Madam. Elw. Wherefore should I tremble? By your permission Harcourt was admitted; Dou. And yet you seem alarmed. If Harcourt's Dou. I feast upon her terrors. The story of his death was well contrived; [Aside. presence [Aside. [To her. [Takes her hand. But mark me well-though it concerns not you— If there's a sin more deeply black than others, Distinguished from the list of common crimes, A legion in itself, and doubly dear To the dark Prince of hell, it is-hypocrisy ! [Throws her from him, and exit. Elw. Yes, I will bear this fearful indignation! Thou melting heart, be firm as adamant; Ye shattered nerves, be strung with manly force, That I may conquer all my sex's weakness, Nor let this bleeding bosom lodge one thought, Cherish one wish, or harbour one desire, That angels may not hear, and Douglas know. [Exit. PERCY meets EARL DOUGLAS in single combat, and is slain. DOUGLAS then discovers the innocence of ELWINA, who dies of grief. George Colman. THE IRON CHEST. SIR EDWARD MORTIMER, in an accidental Encounter with his Enemy, kills him. The Secret of the Murderer is preserved, but SIR Edward becomes a Prey to Remorse and Misanthropy. His Secretary, WILFORD, watches his Employer with unceasing Scrutiny and Suspicion. SIR EDWARD, conscious of WILFORD's Suspicions, determines to confess his Crime, and appoints a Meeting with WILFORD in the Library. SIR EDWARD Mortimer, Wilford. Enter SIR EDWARD MORTIMER at the door of the Library, which he locks after him. WILFORD turns round on hearing him shut it. Wilf. What's that? "Tis he himself. Mercy on me! He has locked the door! what is going to become of me! Mort. Wilford! is no one in the picture-gallery? Wilf. No, not a soul, Sir-not a human soul; None within hearing, if I were to bawl Ever so loud. Mort. Lock yonder door. Wilf. The door, Sir? Mort. Do as I bid you. [hand. Wilf. What, Sir? lock- [MORTIMER waves with his I shall, Sir. [Going to the door, and locking it. His face has little anger in it, neither; "Tis rather marked with sorrow and distress. Mort. Wilford, approach me. For aiming at your life? Despise me for it? Wilf. I! oh, Sir! What am I to say Do you not scorn me, Mort. You must; For I am singled from the herd of men, A vile, heart-broken wretch! Wilf. Indeed, indeed, Sir, You deeply wrong yourself. Your equal's love, The poor man's prayer, the orphan's tear of gratitude, All follow you: and I-I owe you all; I am most bound to bless you. Mort. Mark me, Wilford: I know the value of the orphan's tear; The poor man's prayer; respect from the respected; Is to taste here, below, that thrilling cordial |