Glost. I guess the man at whom your words | Till life fled from us like an idle dream, would point: you. Glost. In right good time. Speak out your pleasure freely. Hast. I am to move your highness in behalf Of Shore's unhappy wife. Glost. Say you, of Shore? Hast. Once a bright star, that held her place on high: The first and fairest of our English dames, with her, From Edward's days to these. Then all was jollity, Feasting and mirth, light wantonness and laugh ter, Piping and playing, minstrelsy and masquing; A shew of mummery without a meaning. Hast. No farther, my good lord, than friendly pity, And tender-hearted charity allow. Glost. Go to; I did not mean to chide you for it. For, sooth to say, I hold it noble in you Using the warrant of your mighty name, And though some counsellors of forward zeal, I have withheld the merciless stern law With open-handed bounty shall repay you: Glost. Thus far, the voice of pity pleaded only: Our farther and more full extent of grace Is given to your request. Let her attend, And to ourself deliver up her griefs. She shall be heard with patience, and each wrong At full redressed. But I have other news, Which much import us both; for still my fortunes Go hand in hand with yours: our common foes, The queen's relations, our new-fangled gentry, Have fallen their haughty crests-That for your privacy. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-An apartment in Jane Shore's house. Enter BELMOUR and DUMONT. Bel. How she has lived, you have heard my tale already; The rest your own attendance in her family, Where I have found the means this day to place you, And nearer observation, best will tell you. Sure, or I read her visage much amiss, The blessings of the cheerful morn be on you, Pursue my hapless fortunes! Ah, good Belmour! man, Whose friendly service you commended to me? Bel. Madam, it is. [Aside. J. Sh. A venerable aspect. Age sits with decent grace upon his visage, And worthily becomes his silver locks; He wears the marks of many years well spent, Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience; A friend like this would suit my sorrows well. Fortune, I fear me, sir, has meant you ill, [To Dum. Who pays your merit with that scanty pittance, Which my poor hand and humble roof can give. But to supply these golden vantages, Which elsewhere you might find, expect to meet A just regard and value for your worth, The welcome of a friend, and the free partner ship Of all that little good the world allows me. Dum. You over-rate me much; and all my answer Must be my future truth; let them speak for me, And make up my deserving. J. Sh. Are you of England? Dum. No, gracious lady, Flanders claims my birth; At Antwerp has my constant biding been, Where sometimes I have known more plenteous days Than these which now my failing age affords. They fall for my offences and must fall Dum. I knew him well-but stay this flood of anguish! The senseless grave feels not your pious sorrows: That I had lived within his guiltless arms, Enter a Servant. Ser. The lady Alicia Attends your leisure. J. Sh. Say I wish to see her. [Exit Servant. Please, gentle sir, one moment to retire: I'll wait you on the instant, and inform you Of each unhappy circumstance, in which Your friendly aid and counsel much may stead me. [Exeunt Belmour and Dumont. Enter ALICIA. Alic. Still, my fair friend, still shall I find you thus? Still shall these sighs heave after one another, J. Sh. No, my Alicia, Heaven and his saints be witness to my thoughts, Alic. And yet some of those days my friend has known, Some of those years might pass for golden ones, At least if womankind can judge of happiness. What could we wish, we, who delight in empire, Whose beauty is our sovereign good, and gives us Our reasons to rebel, and power to reign, der, The goodly pride of all our English youth; Might have been charmed, like yielding human weakness, Stooped from their heaven, and listened to his talking. But what had I to do with kings and courts? Alic. Sure, something more than fortune joined your loves: Nor could his greatness, and his gracious form, Be elsewhere matched so well, as to the sweet The hand of power has seized almost the whole Of what was left for needy life's support; Shortly thou wilt behold me poor, and kneeling Before thy charitable door for bread. Alic. Joy of my life, my dearest Shore, forbear But wherefore should he not? Hastings has eyes; But yours shall charm him long. J. Sh. Away, you flatterer! Nor charge his generous meaning with a weak ness, Which his great soul and virtue must disdain. If I not hold her nearer to my soul, Therefore these jewels, once the lavish bounty [Giving a casket. Receive this, all that I can call my own, And let it rest unknown, and safe with thee: That if the state's injustice should oppress me, Strip me of all, and turn me out a wanderer, My wretchedness may find relief from thee, And shelter from the storm. Alic. My all is thine; One common hazard shall attend us both, good, The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done, Even man, the merciless insulter man, J. Sh. Why should I think that man will do for me, What yet he never did for wretches like me? And such the curse entailed upon our kind, [Exeunt. Enter a Servant. Ser. One from the court, Lord Hastings (as I think) demands my lady, Alic. Hastings! Be still, my heart, and try to meet him With his own arts: with falsehood-But he comes. Enter LORD HASTINGS, speaks to a Servant as entering. Hast. Dismiss my train, and wait alone with- Alicia here! Unfortunate encounter! Alic. When humbly, thus, The great descend to visit the afflicted, ence, And cheers the melancholy house of care. tesy, Nor let the coldness of delay hang on it, The lord protector has received her suit, Alic. My friend! my lord. Hast. Yes, lady, yours: none has a right more ample To task my power than you. Alic. I want the words, To pay you back a compliment so courtly; But my heart guesses at the friendly meaning And will not die your debtor. Hust. Tis well, madam. But I would see your friend. Alic. Oh, thou false lord! I would be mistress of my heaving heart, Hast. Are you wise? Have you the use of reason? Do you wake? What means this raving, this transporting past sion? Alic. Oh, thou cool traitor! thou insulting tyrant! Dost thou behold my poor distracted heart, And ask me what it means? Art thou not false? famy, Given up to be the sport of villains' tongues, Hust. Are these the proofs of tenderness and love? These endless quarrels, discontents, and jealousies, These never-ceasing wailings and complainings, These furious starts, these whirlwinds of the soul, Which every other moment rise to madness? Alic. What proof, alas! have I not given of love? What have I not abandoned to thy arms? And now, I've nothing left me to bestow, place, Kept in the view, and crossed at every turn? Alic. Hither you fly, and here you seek repose; Spite of the poor deceit, your arts are known, Your pious, charitable, midnight visits! Hast. If you are wise, and prize your peace of mind, Yet take the friendly counsel of my love; To hunt for needless secrets, which, neglected, |