To buy this secret, you have sold yourself. breath, "DE MONTFORT" forms one of the Series of Plays by MISS BAILLIE, intended to illustrate the "Passions." Hatred is the subject of this Play. DE MONTFORT explains to his Sister JANE his hatred of REZENVELT, which at last hurries him into the crime of Murder. DE MONTFORT, JANE DE MONTfort. De Montfort. No more, my sister, urge me not again; My secret troubles cannot be revealed. From all participation of its thoughts My heart recoils: I pray thee be contented. Jane. What! must I, like a distant humble friend, In timid silence, whilst with yearning heart De Mon. Ah, Jane, forbear! I cannot e'en to thee. 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 troubles but the one I feel I have 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 further. The eldest of our valiant father's hopes, So sadly orphaned: side by side we stood, Like two young trees, whose boughs in early strength I have so long, as if by nature's right, Thy bosom's inmate and adviser been, I thought through life I should have so remained, De Mon. O Jane, thou dost constrain me with thy love— Would I could tell it thee! Jane. Thou shalt not tell me. Nay, I'll stop mine ears, Nor from the yearnings of affection wring What shrinks from utterance. Let it pass, my brother. Or nobler science, that compels the mind Till thou, with brow unclouded, smilest again; Like one who, from dark visions of the night, Wakes to the dawning morn, and blesses Heaven. De Mon. It will not pass away; 'twill haunt me still. Jane. Ah! say not so, for I will haunt thee too, And be to it so close an adversary, . That, though I wrestle darkling with the fiend, I shall o'ercome it. De Mon. Thou most generous woman ! Why do I treat thee thus ? It should not beAnd yet I cannot-O that cursed villain! He will not let me be the man I would. Jane. What sayst thou, Montfort? Oh! what words are these! They have awaked my soul to dreadful thoughts. I do beseech thee, speak! By the affection thou didst ever bear me; By the dear memory of our infant days; By kindred living ties-ay, and by those Ha! wilt thou not? Then, if affection, most unwearied love, Tried early, long, and never wanting found, De Montfort, do not thus resist my love. De Mon. [Raising her, and kneeling. Thus let him kneel who should the abased be, I never can despise thee, gentle brother. De Mon. A lover's, say'st thou ? No, it is hate! black, lasting, deadly hate! To be a sullen wanderer on the earth, Jane. De Montfort, this is fiend-like, terrible! What being, by the Almighty Father formed Of flesh and blood, created even as thou, Could in thy breast such horrid tempest wake, Who art thyself his fellow? Unknit thy brows, and spread those wrath-clenched hands. Some sprite accursed within thy bosom mates To work thy ruin. Strive with it, my brother! Strive bravely with it; drive it from thy heart; 'Tis the degrader of a noble heart. Curse it, and bid it part. De Mon. It will not part. I've lodged it here too long. With my first cares I felt its rankling touch. I loathed him when a boy. Jane. Whom didst thou say? De Mon. Detested Rezenvelt! E'en in our early sports, like two young whelps Each 'gainst the other pitched his ready pledge, The impotent bite of some half-trodden worm, It drove me frantic. What, what would I give- Jane. And would thy hatred crush the very man |