Grey. O'ercast with fear, thine eyes take nothing in

But fancies of the sickliest hue-For shame!
Rouse, rouse, my noble lord; awake, shake off
This weakness. Pleasure must be wooed with
toil.

Go to her, solace her; if that should fail,
Permit her, as by stealth, to visit Salisbury;
At sight of him this tumult shall subside.

Ray. With love and pity I am torn. In vain
I strive; too far I am advanced in error.
Oh! will no hand disclose a path, whereby
I may return? Accursed be thou, myself;
And doubly be accursed that fatal hour
I turned mine ear to thy destructive counsels!
[Goes out in great agitation.
Grey. [Alone.] My hopes begin to totter.
If he resign them, Salisbury is appeased,
And he retires: what then becomes of Grey?
On me, on me, of course, the tempest falls.
That must not be-he goes to see her now-
Who knows what new-sprung hope may follow
thence?

There is a charm in soft distress, that works
Upon the soul like magic; causing love
Oft times, as oft exciting loose desire
It is most apt. I will, before he goes
To her, explore each access to his heart;
Attack each avenue that leads to virtue;
Try every winning art that may assist
The loose contagion: should he seize her
ties,
Farewell remorse; then dies the injured
band.

SCENE II.-Opens and discovers LORD BURY on the ground, in chains. Enter LEROCHES.

My wrongs! they now come rushing o'er my head

Again, again, they wake me into madness.
Ler. Thy wrongs shall be revenged.
Lord Sul. Torn from them both!

-Let me not think.

Ler. Think on our friends, my lord: Perhaps, even now, they are at hand; and soon Will thunder at the gates.

Lord Sal. Is it possible?

Or do my eyes but false persuade me to it?—
In trammels, and within my walls! beneath
That roof where I am sole invested lord!—
Ler. Look, behold.

Lord Sal. I see thou art dishonoured.
Ler. 'Tis the will

Of Heaven, and I submit me to my fortunes.
Lord Sal. How cam'st thou hither?
Ler. By command, as I

Suppose, of--but I will not name him.
Lord Sal. Blasts

Upon him!--Didst thou see my wife?
Ler. No, my lord.

Lord Sal. Nor my son?

Ler. My lord, I saw not either.

Lord Sal. Nor of either heard?

Ler. No, my good lord;---I trust that they are safe.

Lord Sal. Hear me, sweet Heaven! ye throned
powers above,

Dread arbiters of mortal doings, hear-
Dry not instant up the springs of life,
But grant me measure of revenge. Unbind,
For pity, these dishonoured limbs unbind,
And give this monster to my willing arm:
If I not firmly gripe, if I not tear

With more than savage force his hated form-
Enter a Knight.

Traitor!

What hast thou done? Bring forth my honoured

dame--

[Exit.

SALIS

Knt. Behold

In me thy better angel, come to warn
Thee of unguarded danger--Oh! my lord,
My lord! beware of horrid treachery--
Whatever knight thou not'st, that, traitor-like,
Approacheth thee with smiles; that, with the
charm

Of honeyed speech, would practice on thy hearing,
Of him beware--They seek thy ruin; chance
Betrayed their purpose; I was touched with pity.
[Going

Lord Sal. Nay, go not yet.
Knt. Suspicion's on the watch;
My thoughts are scarce my own.

Knt. Fear not my faith. But shall lord Salisbury prove

A friend indeed? For I shall need thy arm
And interest both against so great a foe.

Lord Sal. Now by my honour, ever yet held dear, I will protect thee, 'gainst whatever foe.

Knt. Morton desires but this---Know then, that late

As by the western porch I stood, my ear
Was met by certain voices: straight I turned;
And through the crevice of the adjoining door
Was known that same insidious knight and Grey,
In low, but earnest converse. Thee they named;
And I could hear the latter, whilst he said,
A dagger is the best. With honest smiles,
And fair-instructed speech you must essay him.
Thy peace and fortunes on this feat depend.'
Lord Sal. I thank thee for this warning; and
ere long

Shall recompense thy love.

Mor. Had I the power

To serve thee, as the will, thou should'st not wear Those marks of shame-But oh! the unhappy countess!

Lord Sul. What, what of her?

Mor. Alas! to think the pangs

She feels this moment, torn as she hath been,
By rude barbarians, from her lord and son.

Lord Sal. But is she safe? Hath not dishonour reached her?

Mor. Oh may she never know dishonour!--Yet Lord Raymond-

Lord Sal. Perish the detested name

For ever! for it makes my blood outcourse
The wholesome speed of nature.

Mor. It is true,

He holds her in his power--

Lord Sal. He does, he does:

And I do live to know it!

Mor. But I trust

He will not use that power-Farewell, my lord; I will away, and gather all I can

Of their condition.

Lord Sal. Thou shalt win my love. See, see my wife, oh! see her if thou can'st : Speak comfort to her. Say, the only pangs I feel, Are for her safety. Bid her hope for timely aid; But to remember still, the virtuous mind Will welcome death itself before dishonour.

Mor. To see her, is a task I fear will foil My utmost; but no art shall be untried.

[Exit Mor. Lord Sal. Is there no way to freedom?----Oh my friends!

My friends! Haste, Ardolf, haste to my revenge!
Ler. Thy fierce impatience, thy untoward will,
It is, my lord, that hath betrayed our safeties.
To Ardolf deaf, thou would'st not wait his suc-
cours;

Deaf, too, to me, thou would'st approach the castle.

Lord Sal. Fear not: this stranger, like Hea

ven's brighter star,

Hath risen propitious--Heavens! but what of that?
My wife!--perhaps, even now within the gripe
Of fell incontinence she struggles-Beware
That thought--down, down, or I shall rage to
madness.

Ler. My lord, he would not--
Lord Sal. Hark !--

Ler. He would not, dare not, sure: or, if he dare,

Her inborn dignity, her virtue--

Lord Sal. Peace!-

Lady Sal. Hold off your brutal hands!

[From without.

Lord Sal. 'Tis she! 'tis she!
The slave assails her-Let me forth---
Slaves! murderers! instant let me forth, or I--
Lady Sal. Hast thou no touch of pity?
Lord Sal. Horror horror!

Out hair! out by the roots! nor let a grain
Be left to tell there grew such honours there.
Lady Sal. O, my lord! my lord !—
Lord Sul. By Heaven I will not be restrained---
[Ler. strives to stay him.
Nor all your bolts, nor barriers, all the powers
Of hell united shall withhold me from her--
Ler. Preserve him, Heaven! I fear
Some act of horrid import-Oh! she comes!
Wild, wild as the rough ocean vexed with storms.
[Bursts forth.

Enter LADY SALISBURY, ELEANOR, and MOR

The bird is rifled.

Poor flutterer! oh! it was naught to spoil
Her of her little hope-Did'st thou not see
Her valiant mate, how fierce he shook his plumes,
And pecked at them? Did he not?—He had saved
His mistress from the spoilers, but they snared him.
Lord Sal. [Entering.] Where is the slave?
I will not brook delay.
Lady Sal. He's come! he's come-
ruffians, I have found

-Now,

Him, we will die together ere you part us! Lord Sal. Hell! what are your blackest horrors to this?

Lady Sal. We will have justice,-bury Grey alive.

Lord Sal. She's lost!

Mor. Distressful sight! Oh, most inhuman Grey!

Ele. Nature, my lord, unequal to the conflict,
Has for a space retired within herself;
But shortly to return. This interval
Of death-like quiet will, I trust, recall
Her safer senses- -She revives.

Lady Sal. But this is strange—————
Ele. My lord,

Speak to her; soothe her, and she will be calm. Lord Sal. Speak to her, soothe her—what have I with her? with thee?

Oh agonizing hour! Had I but perished
In the safe wave that buried my loved friends,
It had been well-'Twas cruelty to save me.
Lady Sal. Am I indeed awake?—Let me
stand up-
What is the matter?

Lord Sal. My poor, injured wife!

Lady Sal. Nay, but inform me, I am over doubtful;

I would believe, I know-If what I now
Behold be not a dream, you are my husband?
Lord Sal. The wretch that was so called.
Lady Sal. Alas! alas!

Sure I have been afflicted sore-My lord!
My life!---why dost thou start from me? Oh take
Me to thy arms, for I have need of comfort!
Lord Sal, Art thou not undone?

Lady Sal. Indeed I have wept.

As hurried me to madness-But thou art safe, My wife is safe! and I am blest again.

Lady Sal. My heart o'erjoys-Then wherefore do I fear?

Lord Sal. I had forgot-our son; for him thos fear'st!

Lady Sal. Not only for my son, but for thyself,

Thy precious self, I trembled-Oh, this fiend!
The slaves and agents of destruction, black
And bold, are stationed round him, and but wait
Their master's nod.

Ler. Would we were safe bestowed
Without this fearful prison!

Lady Sal. Would we were!—

Think, think, my lord, is there no way of flight? Lord Sal. Thou hast recalled to my remembrance what,

If seconded by this our plighted friend,
May claim a serious and attentive hearing.

Mor. Small is the service I can boast, my lord; In all my best I shall be prompt to aid you.

Lord Sal. Hear, then. Deep underneath this vaulted ground,

Curious and close, by our forefathers scooped, I do remember me there is a dark

And secret mine, which leads, by many a maze,
Without the castle. Not far thence there stands,
Within the bosom of an aged grove,

An house, for pious uses set apart,
The hallowed seat of godly brethren: there,
I fear not, we shall rest secure of ill.

Lady Sal. Most opportune, as could our wishes frame--

But oh! our little hope! our younger care! Mor. My life shall answer for lord William's

safety.

Lady Sal. Then let us forth.

Mor. The night is over young; The castle's yet awake, and would but mock

Lord Sal. Say, what shall be the appointed hour!

Mor. Some three hours hence, my lord; or

ere the clock

ARD. THE storm is laid; and from the parting
clouds

See where the moon steps forth, pale goddess,
Cheering the dark, dull brow of haggard night.
This is the forest-that the cottager's,
Or I do err, the appointed place of meeting.

Knt. It is: behold the rock, as was described, The torrent foaming down his rugged side.

Ard. See, the bright harbinger of morning climbs

The steep of heaven: they're in the first repose-Wake, peasant, wake-How balmy sweet the sleep

Of him, who stretches under rustic roof!
His task of labour o'er, content he lays

Him on his rushy couch; nor elves, nor goblins
(The coinage of swoln surfeit or of guilt)
Approach his peaceful pillow. Wake, I say:
Peasant, awake.

Enter a Peasant from the cottage.

If they return, I know not.-Hark! some one Approaches-who is there?

Leroches!

Enter LEROCHES.

To horse, quick; we will rescue him, or perish.
Ler. Ardolf, pursue the eastern causeway you;
I, with a chosen few, will trace the path,
Which led me from the postern.

Ard. Wisely cautioned :

Divided thus, we wage an easier war. [Exeunt.

SCENE II-Within the castle.

Enter GREY and MORTON. Grey. My noble Morton!well hast thou repaid

The nicer hope which I reposed in thee.
-Their unprovided rest outruns my wishes.
Mor. Fools! not to see through my hypocrisy !
That, in the borrowed guise of honest friend-

[Exit Mor. One way there yet remains to reconcile This double war, and heal my tortured bosom. Thou, that so soundly sleep'st, unguarded thus [Going to the side of the stage, Against whatever ill that may approach thee,