Hast. Rise, gentle dame, you wrong my meaning much,

Think me not guilty of a thought so vain,

To sell my courtesy for thanks like these.

J. Sh. 'Tis true, your bounty is beyond my speak ing:

But tho' my mouth be dumb, my heart shall thank you;

And when it melts before the throne of mercy,
Mourning and bleeding for my past offences,
My fervent soul shall breathe one pray'r for you,
If pray'rs of such a wretch are heard on high,
That Heav'n will pay you back, when most you need,
The grace and goodness you have shewn to me.

Hast. If there be ought of merit in my service,
Impute it there, where most 'tis due, to love;
Be kind, my gentle mistress, to my wishes,
And satisfy my panting heart with beauty.
J. Sh. Alas! my lord-

Hast. Why bend thy eyes to earth?

Wherefore these looks of heaviness and sorrow? Why breathes that sigh, my love? And wherefore

falls

This trickling show'r of tears, to stain thy sweetness? 7. Sh If pity dwells within your noble breast, (As sure it does) Oh, speak not to me thus.

Hast. Can I behold thee, and not speak of love? Ev'n now, thus sadly as thou stand'st before me, Thus desolate, dejected, and forlorn,

Thy softness steals upon my yielding senses,

ill my soul faints, and sickens with desire;

low canst thou give this motion to my heart, and bid my tongue be still?

J. Sh. Cast round your eyes

pon the high-born beauties of the court; ehold, like opening roses, where they bloom, weet to the sense, unsully'd all, and spotless; here choose some worthy partner of your heart, o fill your arms, and bless your virtuous bed; or turn your eyes this way, "where sin and misery, Like loathsome weeds, have over-run the soil, And the destroyer, Shame, has laid all waste." Hast. What means this peevish, this fantastic change?

There is thy wonted pleasantness of face,

hy wonted graces, and thy dimpled smiles? There hast thou lost thy wit, and sportive mirth? hat chearful heart, which us'd to dance for ever, nd cast a day of gladness all around thee? 7. Sh. Yes, I will own I merit the reproach; nd for those foolish days of wanton pride, ly soul is justly humbled to the dust :

Il tongues, like yours, are licens'd to upbraid me, ill to repeat my guilt, to urge my infamy,

nd treat me like that abject thing I have been.
Yet let the saints be witness to this truth,

That now,
tho' late, I look with horror back,
That I detest my wretched self, and curse
My past polluted life. All-judging Heav'n,

"Who knows my crimes, has seen my sorrow for

them."

Hast. No more of this dull stuff. 'Tis time enough To whine and mortify thyself with penance, "When the decaying sense is pall'd with pleasure, "And weary nature tires in her last stage; "Then weep and tell thy beads, when alt'ring rheums "Have stain'd the lustre of thy starry eyes, "And failing palsies shake thy wither'd hand.” The present moment claims more gen'rous use; Thy beauty, night and solitude, reproach me, For having talk'd thus long-come let me press thee, [Laying hold of he Pant on thy bosom, sink into thy arms,

And lose myself in the luxurious flood.

"J. Sh. Never! by those chaste lights above,

swear,

"My soul shall never know pollution more;" Forbear, my lord!-here let me rather die :

[Kneeling

"Let quick destruction overtake me here,”
And end my sorrows and my shame for ever.
Hast. Away with this perverseness,—'tis too much
Nay, if you strive-'tis monstrous affectation!

J. Sh. Retire! I beg you leave me-
Hast. Thus to coy it!

With one who knows you too.

J. Sh. For mercy's sake

[Striving

Hast. Ungrateful woman!

My services?

J. Sh. Abandon me to ruinRather than urge me

Is it thus you pay,

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

J. Sh. Help, oh, gracious Heaven!

Help! Save me! Help!

Enter DUMONT, he interposes.

Dum. My lord! for honour's sake-
Hast. Hah! What art thou?-Begone!
Dum. My duty calls me

To my attendance on my mistress here.
"J. Sh. For pity, let me go"-

Hast. Avaunt! base groom

[Pulling her.

[Exit.

At distance wait, and know thy office better.

Dum. "Forgo your hold, my lord!" 'tis most un

manly

This violence

Hast. Avoid the room this moment,

"Or I will tread thy soul out."
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.
Hast. And dost thou know me, slave?
Dum. Yes, thou proud lord!

I know thee well; know thee with each advantage
Which wealth, or power, 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.

Hast. 'Tis wond'rous 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 should'st find I have as daring spirits in my blood

As thou or any of thy race e'er boasted; And tho' no gaudy titles grac'd my birth, "Titles, the servile courtier's lean reward, "Sometimes the pay of virtue, but more oft "The hire which greatness gives to slaves and sycophants,"

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

Hast. Insolent villain! henceforth let this teach

thee

[Draws and strikes him.

The distance 'twixt a peasant and a prince.

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

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

[They fight. "J. Sh. Oh my distracting fears! hold, for sweet Heav'n."

[They fight, Dumont disarms Lord Hastings. Hast. Confusion! baffled by a base-born hind! Dum. Now, haughty sir, where is our difference now!