Has. Away with this perverseness;-'tis too much. Nay, if you strive-'tis monstrous affectation!

Jane S. Retire! I beg you leave me―

Has. Thus to coy it!

With one who knows you too.

Jane S. For mercy's sake

[Striving.

Has. Ungrateful woman! Is it thus you pay

My services?

Jane S. Abandon me to ruin

Rather than urge me

Hus. This way to your chamber; There if you struggle

[Pulling her.

[Shrieks and rushes out, R.

Jane S. Help, O gracious heaven!

Help! Save me! Help!

Enter DUMONT, R.

Dum. (R.) My lord! for honour's sake-
Has. (c.) Hah! What art thou?-Be gone!
Dum. (R. C.) My duty calls me

To my attendance on my mistress here.
Has. 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,
Has. And dost thou know me, slave?
Dum. Yes, thou proud lord!

I know thee well; know thee with each advantage
Which wealth, or pow'r, 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.

Has. "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 grac'd my birth,

Yet heav'n that made me honest, made me more
Than ever king did, when he made a lord.

Has. Insolent villain! henceforth let this teach thee
[Draws and strikes him.

The distance 'twixt a peasant and a prince.

Dum. Nay, then, my lord, [Draws] learn you by this, how well

An arm resolv'd can guard its master's life.

[They fight-DUMONT disarms him.

Hus. 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
Oppos'd against a man, is but a man.

Has. Curse on my failing hand! your better fortune Has giv'n you vantage o'er me; but perhaps

Your triumph may be bought with dear repentance. [Exit, L.

Re-enter JANE SHORE, R.

Jane S. (R.) Alas! what have you done? Know ye the pow'r,

The mightiness that waits upon this lord?

Dum. (c.) Fear not, my worthiest mistress; 'tis a

cause

In which heaven's guards shall wait you.
Pursue the sacred counsels of your soul,
Which urge you on to virtue;

Assisting angels shall conduct your steps,

O pursue,

Bring you to bliss, and crown your days with peace. Jane S. O that my head were laid, my sad eyes clos'd,

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 sham'd, and blushing modesty
Is made the scorner's jest ; where hate, deceit,

And deadly ruin, wear the masks of beauty,
And draw deluded fools with shows of pleasure.

Jane S. 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 dispos'd;
No neighbours, but a few poor simple clowns,
Honest and true, with a well meaning priest:
No faction, or domestic fury's rage,
Did e'er disturb the quiet of that place,
When the contending nobles shook the land
With York and Lancaster's disputed sway.
Your virtue there may find a safe retreat
From the insulting pow'rs of wicked greatness.
Jane S. 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,
E'er 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, R.

END OF ACT II.

с

ACT III.

SCENE I.-The Court.

Enter ALICIA, with a Paper, L.

Alic. (c.) This paper to the great protector's hand With care and secresy 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. (R. c.) 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 nature's into bitterness! (R.)
See, where she comes! once my heart's dearest blessing,
Now my chang'd eyes are blasted with her beauty,
Loath that known face, and sicken to behold her.

Enter JANE SHORE, L.

Jane S. O, my Alicia!

Alic. What new grief is this?

[Meet at c.

What unforeseen misfortune has surpris'd thee,

That racks thy tender heart thus ?

Jane S. O, Dumont !

Alic. Say, what of him?

Jane S. That friendly, honest man,

Whom Belmour brought of late to my assistance,
On whose kind care, whose diligence and faith,
My surest trust was built, this very morn
Was seiz'd on by the cruel hand of power,

Forc'd from my house, and borne away to prison.

Alic. To prison, said you? Can you guess the cause? Jane S. Too well, I fear. His bold defence of me Has drawn the vengeance of Lord Hastings on him. Alic. Lord Hastings! ha!

Jane S. Some fitter time must tell thee The tale of my hard hap. Upon the present Hang all my poor, my last remaining hopes.

'Tis but to close my eyes and shut out day-light,
To view no more the wicked ways of men,
No longer to behold the tyrant Gloster,
And be a weeping witness of the woes,
The desolation, slaughter, and calamities,
Which he shall bring on this unhappy land.

Enter ALICIA, L.

Alic. (L.) Stand off, and let me pass:-I will, I must Catch him once more in these despairing arms, And hold him to my heart.-O, Hastings! Hastings! Has. Alas! why com'st thou at this dreadful moment 'To fill me with new terrors, new distractions; To turn me wild with thy distemper'd rage, And shock the peace of my departing soul? Away; I pr'ythee leave me !

Alic. Stop a minute

Till my full griefs find passage ;-O, the tyrant!
Perdition fall on Gloster's head and mine.

Has. What means thy frantic grief?

Alic. I cannot speak

But I have murder'd thee ;-Oh, I could tell thee!
Has. Speak, and give ease to thy conflicting passion!
Be quick, nor keep me longer in suspense,
Time presses, and a thousand crowding thoughts
Break in at once! this way and that they snatch;
They tear my hurry'd soul: all claim attention,
And yet not one is heard. Oh! speak, and leave me,
For I have business would employ an age,
And but a minute's time to get it done in.

Alic. That, that's my grief;-'tis I that urge thee on,
Thus hunt thee to the toil, sweep thee from earth,
And drive thee down this precipice of fate.

Has. Thy reason is grown wild. Could thy weak hand

Bring on this mighty ruin? If it could,

What have I done so grievous to thy soul,

So deadly, so beyond the reach of pardon,

That nothing but my life can make atonement?

Alic. Thy cruel scorn hath stung me to the heart, And set my burning bosom all in flames;

Raving and mad I flew to my revenge,

And writ I know not what ;-told the protector,
That Shore's detested wife, by wiles, had won thee
To plot against his greatness. He believ'd it,