Enter ANTONIO. Mat. Antonio, is that you? Ant. Yes, 'tis I. Mat. Take the letter which the gentleman here will give you, and read it aloud to him. Ant. [Reading.] Beautiful Laurette,' · Sir O. Pshaw! Ant. Beautiful Laurette, my heart overflows w th ecstasy and gratitude, for the kind assurances you give me of eternal affection.' Sir O. Eternal affection---and that puts him into an ecstasy---very well. Ant. If my attendance on the prisoner, whom I must not quit-- Mat. [Aside.] The prisoner! Ant. If my attendance on the prisoner, whom I must not quit, would suffer me to go out during the day--I would hasten to throw myself Sir O. Into the ditch of your castle, I hope, Mat. Whom I must not quit. [Aside.]---Read on quickly---[To Antonio.] 6 Ant. I would hasten to throw myself at your feet. But if this night'---here are some words blotted out. Mat. Well, what follows? Ant. Contrive some ineans to inform me, at what hour I may speak to you. Your tender, faithful, and eternally constant FLORESTAN.' Sir O. Here's a damn'd governor for you.--- Oh! if I had him in England on the top of Penmanmawr. Mat. What are you a Briton then? Sir O. Yes, I am, Sir, and an enemy to slaves of course, in love or out Mat. Glorious nation !---But how comes it Sir, that you are settled so far from your native country? Sir Ŏ. Oh! that's too long a story to tell you, but it would not have happen'd if I hadn't gone to the crusades at Palestine. Mat. What, under the brave Richard? Sir O. Brave! aye! I would follow him to the world's end---my ruin was no fault of his-Well, you must know, that when I returned from Palestine, I found my father was dead-Mat. He was very old perhaps. Sir O. No---but he was slain by a neighbour of his in single combat: on my return I reveng'd his death. Mat. Of course---you fled Sir O. Yes, with my daughter and wife, who is since dead--my castle and my lands were forfeited---and after fighting her battles, I was sentenc'd by my ungrateful country Mat. A hard and ill return indeed Sir O. No such thing, Sir-----'Twas justice, though severe a Briton suffers no man to abuse his country but himself. Mat. Heaven forbid I should traduce it. But, Sir, one request. Sir O. [Looking out.] It must be theystay, good youth --I see some friends whom I expect. If you wish refreshment-----the poor and friendless are never driven from my door. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Gothic chamber. Enter MATILDA, Laurette, and ANTONIO. Laur. Pray, good youth, tell me what my father has been saying to you. Mat. Are you the pretty Laurette? Laur. Yes, Sir. Mat. Your father is very angry---he knows the contents of that letter from the Chevalier Florestan. Laur. Yes----Florestan is his name--and did you read that letter to my father? Mat. No---not I---I am blind, alas !---it was my little guide. Ant. Yes, but did'nt you bid me read it? [Retires. Laur. Oh! I wish you had not done soMat. Some other person wou'd. Laur. That's true---and what did the letter say? Mat. It says that on account of the prisoner in that castle-and who is that prisoner? Laur. Oh!-no one knows who it is. Mat. The chevalier cannot come to throw himself at your feet. Laur. Poor Florestan! Mat. But that this night Laur. This night! SONG. Laurette. Oh! would the night my blushes hide, Whene'er his eyes I meet, I feel my heart begins to beat, For when my hand he gently presses, Oh! would the night my blushes hide, Whene'er his eyes I meet, I feel my heart begins to beat, Mat. You love him then, Laurette? Laur. Oh, most dearly, that I do, day and night, truly and sincerely. Mat. And do you not fear to own it? Laur. No, not to you. You seem kind and tender-hearted, and you speak gently to me; and then you cannot see me whether I blush or not---and so---1 am not afraid, Mat. Pretty Laurette! I was pretty? Mat. Alas! being blind, I guess only by the voice; the softness and sweetness of that is beauty to me. But let me counsel you, my innocent. These knights, these men of high descent, beware of them; when they seem most devoted to your beauty, they are least forgetful of their own rank, and the nobleness of your soul is overlooked by the pride of their own high birth. Laur. But my birth is not inferior to his, though my father is now in banishment Mat. No!--and does he know it? Laur. Yes; and never talks to me but in words of goodness and honour: and if it wasn't that my father is so passionate, I shou'd have told him every thing long ago. Mat. And wou'd you, before you have inform'd your father, meet this man whom you love so, and converse with me, and in the night too?---Listen to me. |