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- To my attendance on my mistress here. Hast. Avaunti base groom [Pulling her. At distance wait, and know thy office better. [Exit. Forgo your hold, my lord!" 'tis most unmanly 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, I know thee well; know thee with each advantage I know thee, too, for one who stains those honours, Hast. 'Tis wond'rous well! I see, my saint-like dame, Nor urge my rage too far, 'est thou should'st find As thou or any of thy race e'er boasted ; "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! Dam. Now, haughty sir, where is our difference now? 2 Your life is in my hand, and did not honour, Hast. Curse on my failing arm! Your better for tune Has given you vantage o'er me; but perhaps Your triumph may be bought with dear repentance. [Exit Hastings. Enter JANE SHOKE. J. Sh. Alas! what have ye done? Know ye the pow'r, The mightiness, that waits upon this lord? Dum. Fear not, my worthiest mistress; 'tis a cause In which Heaven's guards shall wait you. O pursue, Pursue the sacred counsels of your soul, Which urge you on to virtue; let not danger, Bring you to bliss, and crown your days with peace. clos'd, And my cold corse wound in my shroud to rest! Will never know a moment's peace till then. Dum. Would you be happy, leave this fatal place; Fly from the court's pernicious neighbourhood; Where innocence is sham'd, and blushing modesty Of friends, and all the means of life bereft ? Dum. Belmour, whose friendly care still wakes to serve you, Has found you out a little peaceful refuge, Did e'er disturb the quiet of that place, J. Sh. Can there be so much happiness in store! Dum. Will you then go! You glad my very soul. Banish your fears, cast all your cares on me; Plenty`and ease, and peace of mind shall wait you, And make your latter days of life most happy. Oh, lady! but I must not, cannot tell you, How anxious I have been for all your dangers, And how my heart rejoices at your safety. So when the spring renews the flow'ry field, And warns the pregnant nightingale to build, She seeks the safest shelter of the wood, Where she may trust her little tuneful brood; Where no rude swains her shady cell may know, No serpents climb, nor blasting winds may blow; Fond of the chosen place, she views it o'er, Sits there, and wanders thro' the grove no more; Warbling she charms it each returning night, And loves it with a mother's dear delight. [Exeunt: ACT III. SCENE 1. The Court. Enter ALICIA, with a paper. Alicia. THIS paper to the great protector's hand, To pluck the crown from Edward's infant brow, |