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Are all benumbed.

Offi. Indeed, I heard it not.

Mor. Away! and leave me to myself.

Methought

[Exit Officer.

I heard a voice cry-Stop-it is thy brother!
We loved each other well; our early years
Were spent in mutual happiness together:
Matilda was not there-I do remember
One day, in sportive mood, I rashly plunged
Into the rapid flood, which had well nigh
O'erwhelmed me; when the brave, the gallant
Edwin

Rushed in, and saved me.-Shall I, in return,
Destroy my kind preserver? Horrid thought!
Forbid it, Heaven! [Pauses.] I am myself again.
All powerful nature! once more I am thine.
He shall not die-Who's there?

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[Rises.

Who's there? Ha! Siward here!
Speak, murderer, speak!
Where is my brother? Villain, thou hast snared
My soul; my honour's stained, my fame destroyed,
And my sweet peace of mind is lost for ever!
Siw. Matilda will restore it.
Mor. Never, never!

The price of blood! No: Could Matilda bring
The vanquished world, in dowry with her charnis,
I would not wed her. O! could I recall
One hasty moment, one rash, cruel act-
But 'twas thy savage hand that-

Sia. I received

Your orders: 'Twas my duty to obey them. Mor. Where slept thy friendship then? Thou know'st despair

And madness urged me to it—but for thee-
Thy callous heart had never felt the pangs,

The agonies of disappointed love;

Thou did'st not know Matilda-Cursed obedience!

How often has thy insolence opposed

Thy master and thy prince! how often dared To thwart my will, and execute thy own: | But, when I bade thee do a deed of horror, And shed a brother's blood-thou could'st obey

me.

Siw. Away! this is the trick of self-delusion,
The common cant of hypocrites, who rail
At others' guilt, to mitigate their own.
I've been the mean, the servile instrument
Of thy base vengeance; but thou had'st prepared
Another, a low ruffian, to perform

The bloody office; I detest thee for it,
Despise, ahhor thee.

Mor. Thou wert once my friend.

Siw. Henceforth I am thy foe-Thou hast destroyed

The best of brothers, and the best of men.
Mor. Despised by Siward-then my cup of

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guilt,

Nor half thy sorrows: I shall rend thy soul.
Prepare thee for another deeper wound,
And know that Edwin loved thee! In his hand,
Whilst mine was lifted up for his destruction,
I found this paper; 'tis the counterpart
Of one he had dispatched to William; read it,
And tremble at thy complicated guilt.

Mor. [Taking the paper.] What's here? He
pleads my pardon with the king,
Ascribes my frantic zeal, in Edgar's cause,
To ill-advised warmth, and recommends
His-murderer to mercy! Horrid thought!
I am the vilest, most abandoned slave,
That e'er disgraced humanity-O Siward!
If thou hast yet, among the dying embers
Of our long friendship, one remaining spark
Of kind compassion for the wretched Morcar,
Lend me thy aid, to shake off the sad load
Of hated life, that presses sore upon me.

Siw. Though thou'rt no longer worthy of my friendship,

Deaf to the cries of nature, and the voice
Of holy truth, that would have counselled thee
To better deeds, yet hath my foolish heart
Some pity for thee-After crimes, like these,
There is but one way left. Say, wilt thou patient
wait

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Mat. Gracious Heaven! he weeps ; Propitious omen! O, my lord! those tears Are the soft marks of sympathizing woe, And seem to say, I shall not plead in vain.

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Mat. What mean you? Ha! th, eyes are fixt with horror,

Thy looks are wild. What hast thou done? O! speak.

Mor. Matilda, if thou com'st for Edwin's life, It is too late-for Edwin is no more.

Mat. And is my Edwin slain?

Mor. Ay: basely murdered.

O! 'twas the vilest, most unnatural deed
That ever-

Mat. Blasted be the cruel hand,

That dealt the blow! O, may his guilty heart
Ne'er taste of baliny peace, or sweet repose!
Mor. But ever, by the vulture conscience torn,
Bleed inward, still unpitied, till he seek
For refuge in the grave.

Mat. Nor find it there.

Mor. 'Tis well: thy curses are accomplished all;

I feel them here within-for know-'twas I.
I gave the fatal order, and my friend,
My Siward, has too faithfully performed it.
Mat. Siward! impossible! There dwells not
then

In human breast, or truth, or virtue-O !
Unnatural brother! but I will be calm.
Mor. Alas! thy fate is happiness to mine;
For thou art innocent.

Mat. And soon, I hope

To be rewarded for it. O! my Edwin,
Matilda soon shall follow thee-thou think'st
I am unarmed, deserted, doomed, like thee,
To hated life; but know, I have a friend,

Mor. Ask what thou wilt, for know, so dear I A bosom-friend, and prompt, as thine, to enter

hold

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On any bloody service I command.

[Draws a dagger. Mor. Command it then for justice, for revenge!

Behold! my bosom rises to the blow;
Strike here, and end a wretched murderer-
Mat. No;

That were a mercy thou hast not deserved;

I shall not seek revenge in Morcar's death,

In mine thou shalt be wretched

[Attempts to stab herself; MORCAR lays hold of the dagger.

Mor. Stop, Matilda

Stop thy rash hand! the weight of Edwin's blood Sits heavy on my heart. O! do not pierce it With added guilt.

Mat. No more! I must be gone

To meet my Edwin, who already chides
My lingering steps, and beckons me away.
Mor. Yet hear me! O! if penitence and
prayer,

If deep contrition, sorrow, and remorse,
Could bring him back to thy desiring eyes,
O! with what rapture would I yield him now
To thee, Matilda-bear me witness--Ha!

[Starts. 'Tis he--Look up, dear injured maid-he comes To claim my promise.

2 L

Mat. It is, it is my Edwin!

Enter SIWARD and EDWIN.-EDWIN runs and embraces MATILDA.

Mor. O unexpected bliss! what gracious hand-Stw. Behold the cordial draught I promised you!

I knew thy noble nature, when the storm
Of passion had subsided, would abhor
A deed so impious-'Tis the only time,
That Siward ever did deceive his friend.
Canst thou forgive ?

Mor. Forgive thee! O thou art
My guardian angel, sent by gracious Heaven
To save me from perdition. O, my brother!
I blush to stand before thee-wilt thou take
From these polluted hands, one precious gift?
"Twill make thee full amends for all thy wrongs.
Accept her, and be happy.

[He joins the hands of EDWIN and MATILDA, then turning to SIWARD,

That vile slave

Whom I employed--

Siw. I guessed his horrid purpose, Watched every step, and as the villain aimed His poniard at the guiltless Edwin's breast, Turned sudden round, and plunged it in his own. The bloody corse was dragged--

Mor. I know the rest.

O, Siward! from what weight of endless woe Hath thy blest hand preserved me!

Edw. O, my Matilda! how shall we repay
Our noble benefactor? Much I owe
To gallant Siward, but to Morcar more:
Thou gav'st me life, but my kind, generous bro-
ther

Enhanced the gift, and blessed me with Matilda.
Mat. [To MORCAR.] Words are too poor to
thank thee as I ought;
Accept this tribute of a grateful heart,
These tears of joy; and, O! may every curse
My frantic grief for Edwin poured upon thee,
Be changed to dearest blessings on thy head!

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O, Edwin! say, canst thou forgive the crime Of frantic love, of madness and despair?

Edw. As in my latest hour from Heaven I hope Its kind indulgence for my errors past, Even so, my brother, from my soul, I pardon And pity thee.

Mor. Then I shall die in peace.

Edw. Talk not of death, my brother; thou must live

To see our happiness complete, to hear
My sweet Matilda pour forth all her heart
In rapturous thanks to thee, and to thy friend:
And grateful Edwin bless thee for thy bounties.
Mor. It must not be: I know too much al-

ready,

Of Morcar's weakness, and Matilda's power;
They are not to be trusted. No, my Edwin,
Morcar shall never interrupt thy joys.
Far from the sight, and from the haunts of mea,
In some deep distant solitude retired,
To pious sorrow will I dedicate

My short remains of wretched life, and strive
To make my peace with Heaven and wronged
Matilda.

And if, perchance, in after times, some bard,
Struck with the native horrors of my tale,
Should bid the historic muse record it-let him,
By my example, teach a future age
The dire effects of loose, unbridled rage;
Teach thoughtless men their passions to con-
troul,

And curb the sallies of the impetuous soul,
Lest they experience worse than Morcar's woe,
Nor find a Siward-to prevent the blow.

[Exeunt omnes.

THE

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY.

BY

HARTSON.

PROLOGUE.

SPOKEN IN THE CHARACTER OF A TEAGUE.

My jewels, I'm come to speak in the behalfHoot, devil burn you all, you makes me laugh; Upon my soul now, I don't take it well in you ;Arra, be easy till I'm after telling you.

Smit with the love of glory and of pelf,
To-night a bard, from Dublin its own self,
Has brought a play here for your approbation;
A very pretty thing, by my salvation,-
If you'll trust Irish evidence, I mean.-
I can't the story very well explain :
But it's about a countess and an earl;
The countess is a mighty honest girl,

But there's a villain, with a damn'd cramp'd name,
Makes such proposals-'tis a burning shame-
Another too-a knight-bekeys as why-
But hould you now,-you'll see it by and bye;
And then 'tis time enough to tell the plot.-
Oh, but that's true,—I'd like to have forgot
The dresses :-'pon my conscience, in my days
I never saw their peer, they're all a blaze.

Then there's a child, the sweetest little rogue !-
Only excuse a trifling spice of brogue ;-
He'll make you cry your eyes out, I'll be bound-
'Tis Ireland is the true poetic ground.
The muses-Phoebus-heathenish cant I loath!
What's mount Parnassus to the Hill of Howth?
Or all the scenes each foolish poet paints-
Oh, bub-bub boo! give me the isle of Saints.-
Turn up your noses-cavil now and carp,
Musha, I'm sure our emblem is the harp.
But stop!-the bell rings.-Fait they'll soon
begin;

'Tis time for me to be agoing in;

I take my leave, then-but, dear craters, mind-
Pray, to our Irish poetry be kind :
'Tis a new manufacture in effect;
And yours, my souls,t'encourage and protect.
No critic custom then enacted be,
Pass it, like Irish linen, duty free.

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ACT I.

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Us near. Our vigilance be doubly firm. [Exit Knt. [Reads.] The countess of Salisbury, to her illus

trious friend, the lord de Warren.

I have lost my husband-Me and my lands lord Raymond claims, as by royal grant assigned to him. He has banished my train, encompassed me with his creatures, and holds me a prisoner in my own castle. If the memory of thy noble friend be dear to thee, haste and rescue the afflicted ELA.

How near was Raymond's hope, the beauteous hope

He tended with unceasing care; how near
My rising fortunes marred-I like not this:
Her, and her rich domains, he would possess;
Yet in his breast there lives that kind of heart
Withholds him from the path that's nearest. He,
That would be great, must first be bold.
I hate those motleyed characters;
Something, I know not what, 'twixt good and ill,
Yet neither absolute; all good, all ill,
For me That day, saith he, that happy day,
Which sees the countess mine, shall amply pay
Thy services-a doubtful balance this
Whereon my fortunes hang.--This way he moves;
And, by his gait and gesture, ill at ease-
We must be firm;

My hopes demand it, and the time admits
No weak, no scrupulous delay

Enter RAYMOND.

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 my 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, se

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From the sweet blossomed thorn. Back in her chair She sunksolved

-Oh! had you seen her then, dis

In all the soft, the lovely languishment
Of woe; while at her knee, with countenance
Most piteous, stood her beauteous boy, and looked
As if each tear, which from his mother fell,
Would force a passage to his little heart-
I fled; else had I kneeled, and wept myself
As well as she.

Grey. O shame to manhood! suits
Such weakness with our hopes?

Ray. She must, she must, Yes, Grey, she must be mine-and yet—yet fain Would I persuade the fair one, not compel.

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 falterMy 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 ; Grey. It is, in truth, my lord, an irksome la- And cold, cold even as marble, is the maid

Ray. To sue,

But ever without grace to sue-Oh Grey !

I am even weary of the vain pursuit.

bour.

Who comes unwilling to another's arms,

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