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! Rushed in, and saved me.-Shall I, in return, [Rises. Who's there? Ha! Siward here! The price of blood! No: Could Matilda bring 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- 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 bloody office; I detest thee for it, Mor. Thou wert once my friend. Siw. Henceforth I am thy foe-Thou hast destroyed The best of brothers, and the best of men. guilt, Nor half thy sorrows: I shall rend thy soul. Mor. [Taking the paper.] What's here? He Siw. Though thou'rt no longer worthy of my friendship, Deaf to the cries of nature, and the voice 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. 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 Mat. Blasted be the cruel hand, That dealt the blow! O, may his guilty heart Mat. Nor find it there. Mor. 'Tis well: thy curses are accomplished all; I feel them here within-for know-'twas I. In human breast, or truth, or virtue-O ! Mat. And soon, I hope To be rewarded for it. O! my Edwin, Mor. Ask what thou wilt, for know, so dear I A bosom-friend, and prompt, as thine, to enter hold On any bloody service I command. [Draws a dagger. Mor. Command it then for justice, for revenge! Behold! my bosom rises to the blow; 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 If deep contrition, sorrow, and remorse, [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 Mor. Forgive thee! O thou art [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 Enhanced the gift, and blessed me with Matilda. 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 ready, Of Morcar's weakness, and Matilda's power; My short remains of wretched life, and strive And if, perchance, in after times, some bard, And curb the sallies of the impetuous soul, [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, But there's a villain, with a damn'd cramp'd name, Then there's a child, the sweetest little rogue !- 'Tis time for me to be agoing in; I take my leave, then-but, dear craters, mind- ACT I. 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 hopes demand it, and the time admits 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 Hear all with equal temper? Waked he not 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 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 Grey. O shame to manhood! suits 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, |