The British drama

Ray. To sue,

Enter RAYMOND.

But ever without grace to sue-Oh Grey!
I am even weary of the vain pursuit.

Grey. It is, in truth, my lord, an irksome labour.

Ray. But now I cast me at the fair one's feet;
Pleaded my passion with whatever arts
Might best the gentle purpose aid; but she,
Instead of such return as I might hope,
Repaid me with an eye of cold contempt.
Of her late gallant lord she spoke; his merits
In opposition hateful placed to mine.
Urged then with recollection of her wrongs,
Like the loud torrent, with steep winter rains
O'ercharged, in all the loose, ungoverned sway
Of wrath and indignation, she assailed me.
Grey. And did any lord, in this unseemly fa-
shion,

Hear all with equal temper? Waked he not
With such a peal

Ray. Thou know'st not what it is
To love like me-Long time (for passion now
Had shed o'er all her charms a brighter glow,
That like Jove's daughter most she looked,

vere

Ray. Silence at first,

Grey. Say to what purpose, then, was seized her castle?

When she your suit rejected, then, perforce,
To claim her as the gift of royal favour!
To lord it here so long, and now to falter-
My lord, my lord, the mound is overleapt ;
What now forbids but, without further pause,
Το crop the rich, the golden fruits within?

Ray. Ungracious is the love reluctance yields; And cold, cold even as marble, is the maid, Who comes unwilling to another's arms.

Grey. In brief, would you partake thelady's bed?
Ray. What means the question?
Grey. Look on that, my lord:
Better reluctant come, than not at all.

Ray. How came this to your hand?
Grey. By one whose cares

Of thee demand no trivial recompence.
His wakeful eye it was descried the bearer;
Else had the watch, with all their vigilance,
Proved insufficient.

Ray. My better angel interposed.

Grey. Had this its purposed scope attained-
my lord,

Were this but whispered in our Henry's ear—
He gave the royal nod, you say: true, he
Permitted, but thus far; that you should woo
The lady, and, her choice approving, wed;
No more. By us the public ear is told
She hath approved: our artifice hath spread
The rumour; and with some it is received,
That she is now your full espoused consort:
But truth, my lord, long cannot rest concealed;
It will abroad, of that be sure, in spite
Of all our studied wiles.

Ray. What's to be done?

Grey. 'Tis critical, and must be managed

nicely

But see, with Eleanor the countess comes;
And in her hand the young lord William. Here
Her custom is to walk; retire we now;
And thou observe the counsels of a friend. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Then tears; bright drops, like May-morn dews, Enter LADY SALISBURY, LORD William, and

that fall

ELEANOR.

No generous hand to vindicate my wrongs? Oh Salisbury! Salisbury! Why, if yet thou liv'st

Fond hope! he lives not, else with speed of thought

Would he repair to his afflicted Ela.

Ele. Why, dearest lady, will you yield you up A prey to purposed sorrow? Time is fruitful; And the next hour, perhaps, may bring thee comfort.

Lady Sal. Day after day I have watched the joyless hours:

Night after night, when some fleet courier, sent Before perchance, or letter, fraught with sweet Assurance of his safety, might appear;

Five tedious moons have passed since first were

told

The dismal tidings; no fleet courier, sent Before, alas! nor letter, with such sweet Assurance, yet appears-he's gone! he's lost! And I shall never, never see him more.

Ele. Ah! suffer not the leaden hand of cold Despair thus weigh thee down; I yet have hope. Lady Sal. Away with hope, away! No, no; full loud,

As I remember, and outrageous blew
The storm, that even the solid fabric shook
Of yonder walls; deep-rooted oaks gave way;
Churches and spires were overturned; nor even
The peasant's humble roof escaped that hour.
The fleet, save only one, one luckless ship,
Have all returned; my lord nor hath been seen,
Alas! nor ever heard of since the storm.

Ele. Heaven visit her affliction, and bestow That patience which she needs!

Lady Sal. No, Eleanor; no more shall he To these deserted walls return. No more Shall trophies, won by many a gallant deed, Through the long hall in proud procession move; No more fair Salisbury's battlements and towers Re-echo to the approaching trumpet's voice. Never, Oh! never more shall Ela run, With throbbing bosom at the well-known sound, To unlock his helmet, conquest-plumed, to strip The cuishes from his manly thigh, or snatch Quick from his breast the plated armour, wont To oppose my fond embrace-Sweet times, farewell!

Lord Wil. Mother, why do you speak so? you make me sad.

Lady Sal. It is too soon, my child, for thee to know

What sadness is.

Lord Wil. Will not my father come home soon?

Eleanor told me he would: she would not tell a lie.

Lady Sal. No, love.

Lord Wil. Then he will come.

Lady Sal. Go, lovely prattler, seek thy toys;

go, go.

Lord Wil. I will, good mother; but dont be sad, or I shall be so too. [Exit. Lady Sul. Sweet state of childhood! unallayed with cares;

Serene as spring-tide morn, new-welcomed up
With bleat of lamb, with note of woodlark wild.
With riper years come passions turbulent
And rude, a baleful crew, unnumbered as
The forest leaves, that strew the earth in autumn.
When happiness is round thee, when thou art on
The lap of downy ease, when thou art cherished
In the fair bosom of unrulled joy,

Comes a fell hand, dashes thee rudely down,
And leaves thee to despair.

Ele. Cease,

Cease, lady, to afflict thee: Raymond may,
I trust he will, ere long, retire and give
Thee ease again-But hither comes his minion:
Much with his lord he can; and, as he lists,
To purposes of good or ill o'er-rules
His mind if he accost thee, speak him gently.
Enter GREY.

Grey. As you are fair above all other women,
So may you lend to that I would implore
A gracious ear.

Lady Sal. Without more preface, briefly speak thy suit.

Grey. To love, but ne'er to reap of love the

Of words: In brief, I love him not, nor pity:
So tell thy lord-I would be private-hence.
Grey. Your words are brief indeed; but of
that kind

I dare not, must not bear my lord.
Lady Sal. Must not!

Grey. 'Tis cruel towards the man who loves so fondly.

Lady Sal. Doth he assume the specious name of love?

Love is a bright, a generous quality,

Heaven gave to noble minds; pure and unmixed

With every grosser stuff; a goodly flower, Shoots up and blossoms in great souls alone. Grey. The mind, the exalted soul thou nam'st, is his.

Lives there a youth more gentle of condition,

Lady Sal. Sweet innocence! I fear he will In fair accomplishments more graced, admi

not.

Lord Wil. I hope he is not sick.

red?

If beauty sway thy fond regards, if wealth,

I know not in fair England one with him
Can vie.

Lady Sal. Is then the star, the peerless star, That late was gazed on, quite obscured? What though

He may have set, hath he not left a train
Of glory in the skies? The illustrious name
Of Salisbury yet survives. If wealth—but mark

me;

Were he of all the wealth possessed from where The East Indian bids the sun good-morrow, to where

The Atlantic, in her wide-extended lap,
Receives him setting; could he in each hand
A thousand sceptres place, not all should bribe
Me to his bed. No, Salisbury! thou hast been
The husband of my early love; with thee,
That love was all interred; and when I pluck
It forth again, gape wide that earth wherein
Thou liest, quick snatch me from the light of
Heaven,

And swallow me within her lowest prison!

Grey. For pity's sake yet soften; for, Oh! sure No former love could ever equal his; No bosom boast the generous flame wherewith Lord Raymond glows for thee, admired fair! Lady Sal. Hear this, ye Heavens! and grant me patience Where's

My people? where the freedom that I late Was blest with? Wherefore is my palace thronged

With strangers? Why, why are my gates shut up And fortified against their rightful mistress? Grey. Madam

Lady Sal. Is this the love he boasts?

Is this the fair accomplished, this the gentle youth?

Must I recal to mind-Came he not, then,
Even while the memory of my dear loved lord
Was green, while sorrow yet was in my eyes?
Tears! ye will choke me-Came he not even
then,

And broke in on my sorrows? Like a spoiler
He came, heaped up the measure of my woes,
Added new anguish to the afflicted heart,
And swelled the current of the widow's tears!
Grey. Madam, were he that spoiler thou pro-
claim'st,

He need not now thus humbly sue for that

His power, long since, unasked, might have extorted.

Lady Sal. Ha! what art thou, that thus pre sum'st to threaten?

Extorted!-Hence, thou rude one, bolder even
Than him who calls thee slave,
Grey. Madam, you speak
As though you knew me not.

Lady Sal. I know thee well

To what concerns lord Raymond I have spoke, My final purpose fixed:

For thee, I charge thee shun my presence; hence! And learn the distance that befits thy calling. Grey. Not ere I speak more fully to the

cause

Nay, lady, look not on me with so stern
An
eye, but give me patient hearing—
Lady Sal. No more; I'll hear no more.
Grey. Not hear me !-When next we meet-
I will be heard.

[Erit.

Lady Sal. What meant he, Eleanor ?—I will be heard!

Ele. Alas! I know not: but a soul he hath,
Prompt and alert to acts of desperate thinking.
Hardly thou art beset; O lady, lend
An ear to what thy Eleanor would counsel.
When next he comes, (for that he hath obtained
Of Raymond leave to woo thee to his will,
I know) assume a gentler carriage. Seem
As though you may hereafter to his suit
Incline. Be ruled: necessity oft lends
A sanction to deceit. Demand a pause:
My lord of Salisbury's fate, yet unconfirmed,
Shall add thereto a seeming colour. Chance,
Mean time, that comes or soon or late to all,
To thee may come with unexpected succour.
Lady Sal. Sincerity,

Thou, spotless as the snowy-vested hill!
Forgive me, if, by lawless power constrained,
I turn this once from thy long-trodden path;
It must be so-

Oh, Salisbury! Salisbury! thou lamented shade;
Descend from those pure mansions, where thou

sit'st

Exalted: hover o'er me: and, as thou Wert wont, support me in this hour of trial! [Exeunt.

Prompt credence. Hear what I have devised, if | Lord Salisbury then, perchance, of thee was

Re-enter Knight, with Strangers.

Whence, and what are you?

1st Stran. What we are,

known?

[Erit Have proved his latter fortunes I should wish
To learn-Say, courteous stranger, if thou can'st,
Of this renowned lord: a rumour hath
Long since prevailed, that he on Gallia's coast
Was wrecked with all his crew.

Alw. What cause there was

Of such report, alas! these eyes have seen;
How true in part it is, too sure this tongue
Can testify.

These weeds, though we were silent, might un-To
fold.

Alwin I am called, my fellow-traveller
Leroches. Our way was bent for Canterbury,
With purpose of a pious vow: o'ertaken
By weariness from travel, and desire

Of food, we journeyed hitherward, in hope
The lord of these fair turrets, first descried
At close of evening, might befriend our toils.
Ray. Whence have you come?

Alw. From France, not many days,

Ray. Say, what occasion may have called you hither?

Alw. To aid (Heaven prosper long) my country's weal.

Ray. You are a soldier then?

Alw. I have been such;

And to be such was my most dear inclining;
Smit with the love, even from my greenest youth,
Of honest arms. Some share of fame I too
Achieved But ill the soldier it beseems
To trumpet his own praises.

Ray. Cease not so.

Though in the school of war untutored, much
It pleaseth me to hear the brave man's labours.
Alw. None but have heard how some time
since was sent,

To claim of Lewis certain lands usurped,
A puissant force-

Ray. Were you therein employed?
Alw. Beneath the royal banner I enrolled,
As was my bent, in quest of fame.
Ray. Indeed!

Ray. I pray you, let us hear.

Alw. O'ercharged with human prey, fell war had ceased

walk his wasteful round; well pleased we

turn

Us from the blood-stained field; exulting each
With some rich spoil, trophies by valiant dint
Of arms achieved. Forthwith the eager host
Embark.

And now the chalky cliffs on Albion's coast
To our straining view appeared; the exulting

crew

With peals redoubled greet the well known shore-
Ill-fated men! in vain the anxious dame
Oft mounts the high-raised tower, thence earnest
looks

Haply if her wished-for lord may come; in vain
The prattling boy oft asks her of his sire,
That never, never shall return.

Ray. Proceed,
Good stranger-

Alw. Anon

-what was the event?

The winds began to shift; up rose a storm,
And heaved the bosom of the troubled deep:
On the swoln billows sits enthroned grim Death,
And shakes his fatal dart.-The fleet, which late
In such fair order sailed, is now dispersed.
Before the wind we drove, left to the mercy
Of the wild waves, and all-disposing Heaven—
Oh my loved friends! associates of my toils!
Rescued in vain from war's wide wasteful arm,
Here end your labours! here, sweet life forsakes

Embarked, not one that fatal hour survived-
Ray. Save only thee?
Alw. Save only me.

Ray. Speak now, secure, for nearly it con

cerns

My quiet-speak-was Salisbury of your crew? Alw. Alas! too sure.

Ray. Enough-Thy courtesy

Of us may well, and shall be well requited.

Of this our friend accept mean time his prompt
Regards: anon we shall be glad to hold
Some farther converse with you.

Lady Sal. Sweet, sweet, my Eleanor; so sweet,

oh! would

I never had waked. I dreamt, as wont on him
To dream, that I beheld his gracious form,
My bosom's lord: a while he stood, and seemed
On me to smile; then flew to my embraces-
Ah fleeting ecstacy!-'twas but a dream.
Enter a Knight.

Knt. Thy favour, lady; I am charged with

news,

That much imports thy hearing: summon up [Exit Alw. Ler. and Knt. Thy powers; two strangers late have come,

Grey. Of this stranger

What thinks my lord?

Ray. As of an angel, sent

To waft me on his wings strait to the summit
Of all my wishes-With what a gallant grace
He bears him!--Much I wish to hear him speak
Again-to hear the battles he has fought,
And all the story of his life and fortunes.

whom

One brings assured tidings of thy lord. Lady Sal- -My lord—what—speak—

Knt. He saith he knew my lord

Of Salisbury well; that he was of his crew; And with that peer embarked from France. Lady Sal.-But-well-from France.Knt. Lady, all must have

Grey. That we shall learn hereafter: but 'tis Their sorrows. Strait uprose a mighty tempest,

meet

That he to lady Salisbury first unfold
The sum of what he here reported.
Ray. Methinks

I now behold her, like some full-blown flower,
The fairest of the garden, late o'ercharged
With showers, her head declining sad, whilst he
Recounts the story of her Salisbury's fate.
Would she were mine without a tear;

Without a sigh. But she must weep; she must;
Thereon my all depends-Oh wayward sorrow !
That wounds-yet, wounding, heals the lover.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II-Changes to an apartment. LADY
SALISBURY reclining on a couch,

Dispersed the fleet o'er all the seas-
The storm-the fatal wreck-of all
The stranger gives most circumstantial proof.

Ele. Alas the tidings!-Dearest lady, give Thy sorrows vent; thy bosom's overfraught, And will find ease by letting loose its woes. Lady Sal.- -Well, well

Then he is lost, and all, all is despair.
Though languid, yet was hope not quite extinct-
Where, where's the stranger? Seek him, haste,

that I

May hear him fully speak of all. Methinks [Exit Kat. "Twill be a desperate sort of soothing; to hang Upon each sound, catch every circumstance Of the sad story; and wring my aching heart, Till I am even surfeited with sorrow. Ele. Behold! the stranger comes

Enter ALWIN.

Lady Sal. Bear, bear me up, good Heaven! That I may give full measure to my sorrow. Alw. Thy angel hover o'er thee, and support thee. [In an under voice. Lady Sal. The dead ere now Have burst the prisons of the close-pent grave, And apparitions, strange of faith, appeared; Perhaps thou too art but a shadow; let Me grasp thee, for, as I have life, I thinkIt is, it is my Salisbury! O my lord!

Lord Sal. My bosom's joy!

Lady Sal. And dost thou live indeed?
Amazing Providence! He does! he does!
Look! look! behold him, Eleanor! behold
The gracious form! The vision was not vain.
[Ele. goes aside.

Lord Sal.-And art thou, art thou then-
Lady Sal. O my full bosom!
Lord Sal. The same, by time or circumstance
unchanged?

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The British drama, Volumen1