Classic Poem

SCENE continues .

Enter A LICIA , speaking to Jane S HORE as entries .

N O farther, gentle Friend; good Angels guard you
And spread their gracious Wings about you Slumbers.
The drowsy Night grows on the World, and now
The busy Craftsman and o'erlabor'd Hind,
Forget the Travel of the Day in Sleep:
Care only wakes, and moping Pensiveness;
With meagre discontented Looks they fit,
And watch the wasting of the midnight Taper.
Such Vigils must I keep, so wakes my Soul,
Restless and self-tormented; Oh false Hastings!
Thou hast destroy'd my Peace.
What Noise is that?
What Visitor is this, who with bold Freedom
Breaks in upon the peaceful Night and Rest,
With such a rude Approach?

Enter a Servant.

SERVANT.

One from the Court
Lord Hastings (as I think) demands my Lady.

ALICIA.

Hastings! Be still my Heart, and try to meet him
With his own Arts; with Falshood — But he comes,

Enter Lord H ASTINGS . Speaks to a Servant as entring .

HASTINGS.

Dismiss my Train, and wait alone without.
Alicia here! Unfortunate Encounter!
But, be it as it may.

ALICIA.

When humbly, thus,
The Great descend to visit the Afflicted,
When thus unmindful of their Rest they come
To sooth the Sorrows of the Midnight Mourner:
Comfort comes with them, like the golden Sun,
Dispels the sullen Shades with her sweet Influence,
And chears the melancholy House of Care.

HASTINGS.

'Tis true, I would not over-rate a Courtesy,
Nor let the Coldness of Delay hang on it
To nip and blast its Favor, like a Frost;
But rather chose, at this late Hour, to come,
That your fair Friend may know I have prevail'd;
The Lord Protector has receiv'd her Suit,
And means to shew her Grace.

ALICIA.

My Friend! my Lord.

HASTINGS.

Yes, Lady, yours: None has a Right more ample
To ask my Pow'r than you.

ALICIA.

I want the Words,
To pay you back a Compliment so courtly;
But my Heart guesses at friendly Meaning,
And wo'not die your Debtor.

HASTINGS.

'Tis well, Madam.
But I would see your Friend.

ALICIA.

Oh thou false Lord!
I wou'd be Mistress of my heaving Heart,
Stifle this rising Rage, and learn from thee
To dress my Face in easy dull Indifference:
But 'two'not be, my Wrongs will tear their way,
And rush at once upon thee.

HASTINGS.

Are you wise!
Have you the use of Reason! Do you wake?
What means this Raving! this transporting Passion

ALICIA.

O thou cool Traitor! thou insulting Tyrant,
Dost thou behold my poor distracted Heart,
Thus rent with agonizing Love and Rage,
And ask me what it means? Art thou not false?
And I not scorn'd, forsaken and abandon'd,
Left, like a common Wretch, to Shame and Infamy
Giv'n up to be the Sport of Villains Tongues,
Of laughing Parasites, and leud Buffoons;
And all because my Soul has doated on thee
With Love, with Truth, and Tenderness unutterable.

HASTINGS.

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 ev'ry other Moment rise to Madness.

ALICIA.

What Proof, alas! have I not giv'n of Love?
What have I not abandon'd to thy Arms?
Have I not set at nought my noble Birth,
A spotless Fame, and an unblemish'd Race,
The Peace of Innocence, and Pride of Virtue?
My Prodigality has giv'n thee all:
And now I've nothing left me to bestow,
You hate the wretched Bankrupt you have made.

HASTINGS.

Why am I thus pursu'd from Place to Place,
Kept in the View, and cross'd at ev'ry turn?
In vain I fly, and like a hunted Deer,
Scud o'er the Lawns, and hasten to the Covert;
Ere I can reach my Safety, you o'ertake me
With the swift Malice of some keen Reproach,
And drive the winged Shaft deep in my Heart.

ALICIA.

Hither you fly, and here you seek Repose;
Spite of the poor Deceit, your Arts are known,
Your pious, charitable, Midnight Visits.

HASTINGS.

If you are wise, and prize your Peace of Mind,
Yet take the friendly Counsel of my Love;
Believe me true, nor listen to your Jealousy,
Let not that Devil, which undoes your Sex,
That cursed Curiosity seduce you,
To hunt for needless Secrets, which neglected,
Shall never hurt your Quiet, but once known,
Shall sit upon your Heart, pinch it with pain,
And banish the sweet Sleep for ever from you.
Go to — — be yet advis'd — —

ALICIA.

Dost thou in Scorn
Preach Patience to my Rage? And bid me tamely
Sit like a poor contented Idiot down,
Nor dare to think thou'st wrong'd me — Ruin seize thee,
And swift Perdition overtake thy Treachery!
Have I the least remaining Cause to doubt?
Hast thou endeavor'd once to hide thy Falshood
To hide it, might have spoke some little Tendem
And shewn thee half unwilling to undo me:
But thou disdain'st the Weakness of Humanity,
Thy Words, and all thy Actions, have confess'd it
Ev'n now thy Eyes avow it, now they speak,
And insolently own the glorious Villainy.

HASTINGS.

Well then, I own my Heart has broke your Charm
Patient I bore the painful Bondage long,
At length my gen'rous Love disdains your Tyrant
The Bitterness and Stings of taunting Jealousy,
Vexatious Days, and jarring joyless Nights,
Have driv'n him forth to seek some safer Shelter,
Where he may rest his weary Wings in Peace.

ALICIA.

You triumph! do! and with gigantic Pride.
Defy impending Vengeance. Heav'n shall wink;
No more his Arm shall roll the dreadful Thunder
Nor send his Lightnings forth: No more his Justies
Shall visit the presuming Sons of Men,
But Perjury, like thine, shall dwell in Safety.

HASTINGS.

Whate'er my Fate decrees for me hereafter,
Be present to me now, my better Angel!
Preserve me from the Storm which threatens now,
And if I have beyond Atonement sinn'd,
Let any other kind of Plague o'ertake me,
So I escape the Fury of that Tongue.

ALICIA.

Thy Pray'r is heard — I go — but know, proud to
Howe'er thou scorn'st the Weakness of my Sex,
This feeble Hand may find the Means to reach
Howe'er sublime in Pow'r, and Greatness plac'd,
With royal Favor guarded round, and grac'd;
On Eagle's Wings my Rage shall urge her Flight,
And hurl thee headlong from thy topmost Height;
Then like thy Fate, superior will I sit,
And view thee fall'n, and grov'ling at my Feet;
See thy last Breath with Indignation go,
And tread thee sinking to the Shades below.

HASTINGS.

How fierce a Fiend is Passion? With what Wildness,
What Tyranny untam'd, it reigns in Woman!
Unhappy Sex! whose easy yielding Temper
Gives way to ev'ry Appetite alike;
Each Gust of Inclination, uncontrol'd,
Sweeps thro' their Souls, and sets them in an uproar;
Each Motion of the Heart rises to Fury,
And Love in their weak Bosoms is a Rage
As terrible as Hate, and as destructive.
So the Wind roars o'er the wide fenceless Ocean,
And heaves the Billows of the boiling Deep,
Alike from North , from South , from East , from West ,
With equal Force the Tempest blows by turns
From ev'ry Corner of the Seaman's Compass.
But soft ye now — — for here comes one disclaims
Strife, and her wrangling Train: of equal Elements,
Without one jarring Atom was she form'd,
And Gentleness, and Joy, make up her Being.

Enter Jane S HORE .

Forgive me, Fair One, if officious Friendship
Intrudes on your Repose, and comes thus late,
To greet you with the Tidings of Success.
The Princely Glo'ster has vouchsaf'd you Hearing,
To-morrow he expects you at the Court;
There plead your Cause with never-failing Beauty,
Speak all your Griefs, and find a full Redress.

JANE SHORE.

Thus humbly let your lowly Servant bend;
Thus let me bow my grateful Knee to Earth, Kneeles
And bless your noble Nature for this Goodness.

HASTINGS.

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.

JANE SHORE.

'Tis true, your Bounty is beyond my Speaking
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 feryant 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.

HASTINGS.

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.

JANE SHORE.

Alas! my Lord — —

HASTINGS.

Why bend thy Eye's to Earth!
Wherefore these Looks of Heaviness and Sorrow
Why breathes that Sigh, my Love? And wherefore fall
This trickling Show'r of Tears: to stain thy Sweetness.

JANE SHORE.

If Pity dwells within your noble Breast,
(As sure it does) Oh speak not to me thus.

HASTINGS.

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,
'Till my Soul faints, and sickens with Desire;
How canst thou give this Motion to my Heart,
And bid my Tongue be still?

JANE SHORE.

Cast round your Eyes
Upon the high-born Beauties of the Court;
Behold, like op'ning Roses, where they bloom,
Sweet to the Sense, unfully'd all and spotless;
There choose some worthy Partner of your Heart
To fill your Arms, and bless your virtuous Bed;
Nor turn your Eyes this way, where Sin and Mis'ry,
Like loathsom Weeds, have over-run the Soil,
And the Destroyer Shame has laid all waste.

HASTINGS.

What means this peevish, this fantastic Change?
Where is thy wonted Pleasantness of Face?
Thy wonted Graces, and thy dimpled Smiles?
Where hast thou lost thy Wit, and sportive Mirth?
That chearful Heart, which us'd to dance for ever,
And cast a Day of Gladness all around thee?

JANE SHORE.

Yes, I will own I merit the Reproach;
And for those foolish Days of wanton Pride,
My Soul is justly humbled to the Dust;
All Tongues, like yours, are licens'd to upbraid me,
Still to repeat my Guilt, to urge my Infamy,
And treat me like that abject Thing I've been.
Yet let the Saints be winess 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.

HASTINGS.

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 Moments claim more gen'rous use;
Thy Beauty, Night and Solitude reproach me,
For having talk'd thus long — Come let me press thee.

Pant on thy Bosom, sink into thy Arms,
And lose myself in the luxurious Fold.

JANE SHORE.

Never! by those chaste Lights above, I swear,
My Soul shall never know Pollution more;
Forbear, my Lord! — — Here let me rather die,

Let quick Destruction overtake me here,
And end my Sorrows and my Shame for ever.

HASTINGS.

Away with this Perverseness, — — 'tis too much;
Nay, if you strive — — — 'tis monstrous Affectation.

JANE SHORE.

Retire! I beg you leave me — —

HASTINGS.

Thus to coy it! — —
With one who knows you too.

JANE SHORE.

For Mercy's sake —

HASTINGS.

Ungrateful Woman! Is it thus you pay
My Services? — — —

JANE SHORE.

Abandon me to Ruin — —
Rather than urge me — —

HASTINGS.

This way to your Chamber,

There if you struggle — —
JANE SHORE.

Help! Oh gracious Heav'n!
Help! Save me! Help!

Enter D UMONT , he interposes .

DUMONT.

My Lord! for Honor's sake —

HASTINGS.

Ha! what art thou? Be gone!

DUMONT.

My Duty calls me.
To my Attendance on my Mistress here.

JANE SHORE.

For Pity let me go — —

HASTINGS.

Avaunt! base Groom — —
At distance wait, and know thy Office better.

DUMONT.

Forego your hold, my Lord! 'tis most unmanly
This Violence — — —

HASTINGS.

Avoid the Room this Moment,
Or I will tread thy Soul out.

DUMONT.

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.

HASTINGS.

And dost thou know me, Slave?

DUMONT.

Yes, thou proud Lord
I know thee well, know thee with each Advantage,
Which Wealth, or Pow'r, or noble Birth can give thee
I know thee too for one who stains those Honors,
And blots a long illustrious Line of Ancestry,
By poorly daring thus to wrong a Woman.

HASTINGS.

'Tis wondrous well! I see my Saint-like Dame,
You stand provided of your Braves and Ruffians,
To man your Cause, and bluster in your Brothel.

DUMONT.

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.

HASTINGS.

Insolent Villain! Henceforth let this teach thee
The Distance 'twixt a Peasant and a Prince.

DUMONT.

Nay then, my Lord! [ drawing. ] learn you by this how well
An Arm resolv'd can guard its Master's Life.

JANE SHORE.

Oh my distracting Fears! hold, for sweet Heav'n.
They fight , Dumont disarms Lord Hastings.

HASTINGS.

Confusion! baffled by a base-born Hind!

DUMONT.

Now, haughty-Sir, where is our Diff'rence now?
Your Life is in my Hand, and did not Honor,
The Gentleness of Blood and inborn Virtue
(Howe'er unworthy I may seem to you)
Plead in my Bosom, I should take the Forfeit.
But wear your Sword again; and know, a Lord
Oppos'd against a Man is but a Man.

HASTINGS.

Curse on my failing Hand! Your better Fortune
Has giv'n you 'Vantage o'er me; but perhaps
Your Triumph may be bought with dear Repentance,

JANE SHORE.

Alas! what have you done! know you the Pow'r,
The Mightiness that waits upon this Lord?

DUMONT.

Fear not, my worthiest Mistress; 'tis a Cause,
In which Heav'n's Guard shall wait you. O pursue,
Pursue the sacred Counsels of your Soul,
Which urge you on to Virtue; let not Danger,
Nor the incumb'ring World make faint your Purpose.
Assisting Angels shall conduct your Steps,
Bring you to Bliss, and crown your End with Peace.

JANE SHORE.

Oh that my Head were laid, my sad Eyes clos'd;
And my cold Corse wound in my Shrowd to rest;
My painful Heart will never cease to beat,

The COURT .

Enter A LICIA with a Paper .

T HIS Paper, to the great Protector's Hand,
With Care and Secrecy must be convey'd;
His bold Ambition now avows its Aim,
To pluck the Crown from Edward 's infant Brow,
And fix it on his own. I know he holds
My faithless Hastings , adverse to his Hopes,
And much devoted to the Orphan King;
On that I build. This Paper meets his Doubts,
And marks my hated Rival as the Cause
Of Hastings ' Zeal for his dead Master's Sons.
Oh Jealousy! thou Bane of pleasing Friendship,
Thou worst Invader of our tender Bosoms;
How does thy Rancor poison all our Softness?
And turn our gentle Natures into Bitterness?
See where she comes! Once my Heart's dearest Blessing
Now my chang'd Eyes are blasted with her Beauty,
Loath that known Face, and sicken to behold her.

Enter Jane S HORE .

JANE SHORE.

Now whither shall I fly, to find Relief?
What charitable Hand will aid me now?
Will stay my failing Steps, support my Ruins,
And heal my wounded Mind with balmy Comfort?
Oh, my Alicia!

ALICIA.

What new Grief is this?
What unforeseen Misfortune has surpriz'd thee,
That racks thy tender Heart thus?
JANE SHORE.

Oh! Dumont !

ALICIA.

Say! what of him?

JANE SHORE.

That friendly, honest Man,
Whom Bellmour brought of late to my Assistance,
On whose kind Cares, whose Diligence and Faith,
My surest Trust was built, this very Morn
Was seiz'd on by the cruel Hand of Pow'r,
Forc'd from my House, and borne away to Prison.

ALICIA.

To Prison, said you! Can you guess the Cause?

JANE SHORE.

Too well, I fear. His bold Defence of me,
Has drawn the Vengeance of Lord Hastings on him.

ALICIA.

Lord Hastings! Ha!

JANE SHORE.

Some fitter Time must tell thee
The Tale of my hard Hap. Upon the present
Hang all my poor, my last remaining Hopes.
Within this Paper is my Suit contain'd;
Here, as the princely Glo'ster passes forth,
I wait to give it on my humble Knees,
And move him for Redress.

ALICIA.

Now for a Wile,
To sting my thoughtless Rival to the Heart;
To blast her fatal Beauties, and divide her
For ever from my perjur'd Hastings ' Eyes:
The Wanderer may then look back to me,
And turn to his forsaken home again:
Their Fashions are the same, it cannot fail.

JANE SHORE.

But see the great Protector comes this way,
Attended by a Train of waiting Courtiers.
Give me the Paper, Friend.

ALICIA.

For Love and Vengeance!

Enter the Duke of G LO'STER , Sir R ICHARD R ATCLIFFE , C ATESBY , Courtiers, and other Attendants .

JANE SHORE.

O noble Glo'ster , turn thy gracious Eye,
Incline thy pitying Ear to my Complaint,
A poor undone, forsaken, helpless Woman,
Intreats a little Bread for Charity,
To feed her Wants, and save her Life from perishing,

GLO'STER.

Arise, fair Dame, and dry your wat'ry Eyes.
Beshrew me, but 'twere Pity of his Heart,
That could refuse a Boon to such a Suit'ress.
Y'have got a noble Friend to be your Advocate;
A worthy and right gentle Lord he is,
And to his Trust most true. This present now,
Some Matters of the State detain our Leisure;
Those once dispatch'd, we'll call for you anon,
And give your Griefs Redress. Go to, be comforted.

JANE SHORE.

Good Heav'ns repay your Highness for this Pity,
And show'r down Blessings on your princely Head.
Come, my Alicia , reach thy friendly Arm,
And help me to support that feeble Frame:
That nodding totters with oppressive Woe,
And sinks beneath its Load.

GLO'STER.

Now by my Holidame!
Heavy of Heart she seems, and sore afflicted.
But thus it is when rude Calamity
Lays its strong Gripe upon these mincing Minions;
The dainty gew gaw Forms dissolve at once,
And shiver at the Shock. What says her Paper?
Ha! what is this? Come nearer Ratcliffe, Catesby!
Mark the Contents, and then divine the Meaning:

Wonder not, princely Glo'ster , at the Notice
This Paper brings you from a Friend unknown;
Lord Hastings is inclin'd to call you Master,
And kneel to Richard , as to England 's King;
But Shore 's bewitching Wife misleads his Heart,
And draws his Service to King Edward 's Sons:
Drive her away, you break the Charm that holds him,
And he, and all his Pow'rs attend on you.

RATCLIFFE.

'Tis wonderful!

CATESBY.

The Means by which it came,
Yet stranger too!

GLO'STER.

You saw it giv'n but now.

RATCLIFFE.

She could not know the Purport.

GLO'STER.

No, 'tis plain —
She knows it not, it levels at her Life;
Should she presume to prate of such high Matters,
The meddling Harlot! dear she should abide it.

CATESBY.

What Hand soe'er it comes from, be assur'd,
It means your Highness well — — —

GLO'STER.

Upon the Instant,
Lord Hastings will be here; this Morn I mean
To prove him to the Quick; then if he flinch,
No more but this, away with him at once,
He must be mine, or nothing — But he comes!
Draw nearer this way and observe me well.

Enter Lord H ASTINGS .

HASTINGS.

This foolish Woman hangs about my Heart,
Lingers and wanders in my Fancy still;
This Coyness is put on, 'tis Art and Cunning,
And worn to urge Desire — — I must possess her:
The Groom who lift his saucy Hand against me,
Ere this, is humbled, and repents his daring.
Perhaps ev'n she may profit by th' Example,
And teach her Beauty not to scorn my Pow'r.

GLO'STER.

This do, and wait me ere the Council sits.
My Lord, you're well encounter'd; here has been,
A fair Petitioner this Morning with us;
Believe me she has won me much to pity her:
Alas! her gentle Nature was not made
To buffet with Adversity. I told her,
How worthily her Cause you had befriended;
How much for your good sake we meant to do,
That you had spoke, and all things should be well.

HASTINGS.

Your Highness binds me ever to your Service.

GLO'STER.

You know your Friendship is most potent with us,
And shares our Power. But of this enough,
For we have other Matters for your Ear:
The State is out of Tune; distracting Fears,
And jealous Doubts jar in our public Councils;
Amidst the wealthy City, Murmurs rise,
Leud Railings, and Reproach, on those that rule,
With open Scorn of Government, hence Credit,
And public Trust 'twixt Man and Man are broke.
The golden Streams of Commerce are withheld,
Which fed the Wants of needy Hinds, and Artizans,
Who therefore curse the Great, and threat Rebellion.

HASTINGS.

The resty Knaves are over-run with Ease,
As Plenty ever is the Nurse of Faction:
If in good Days, like these, the headstrong Herd
Grow madly wanton and repine; it is
Because the Reins of Power are held too slack,
And reverend Authority of late
Has worn a Face of Mercy more than Justice.

GLO'STER.

Beshrew my Heart! but you have well divin'd
The Source of these Disorders. Who can wonder
If Riot and Mis-rule o'erturn the Realm,
When the Crown sits upon a baby Brow?
Plainly to speak; hence comes the gen'ral Cry,
And Sum of all Complaint: 'Twill ne'er be well
With England (thus they talk) while Children govern.

HASTINGS.

'Tis true the King is young; but what of that?
We feel no want of Edward 's riper Years,
While Glo'ster 's Valor, and most princely Wisdom,
So well supply our infant Sovereign's Place,
His Youth's Support, and Guardian of his Throne.

GLO'STER.

The Council (much I'm bound thank 'em for't)
Have plac'd a pageant Sceptre in my Hand,
Barren of Pow'r, and subject to controul;
Scorn'd by my Foes, and useless to my Friends
Oh, worthy Lord! were mine the Rule indeed,
I think, I should not suffer rank Offence
At large to lord it in the Common-weal;
Nor wou'd the Realm be rent by Discord thus,
Thus fear and doubt betwixt disputed Titles.

HASTINGS.

Of this I am to learn; as not supposing
A Doubt like this — — —

GLO'STER.

Ay, marry, but there is — —
And that of much Concern. Have you not heard
How on a late Occasion, Doctor Shaw
Has mov'd the People much about the Lawfulness
Of Edward 's Issue? by right grave Authority
Of Learning and Religion, plainly proving,
A bastard Scion never should be grafted
Upon a royal Stock; from thence, at full
Discoursing on my Brother's former Contract
To Lady Elizabeth Lucy , long before
His jolly Match with that same buxom Widow
The Queen he left behind him — —

HASTINGS.

Ill be fall
Such medling Priests, who kindle up Confusion,
And vex the quiet World with their vain Scruples;
By Heav'n 'tis done in perfect Spite to Peace.
Did not the King,
Our royal Master Edward , in Concurrence
With his Estates assembled, well determine
What Course the sov'reign Rule should take hence-forward?
When shall the deadly Hate of Faction cease,
When shall, our long divided Land have Rest,
If every peevish, moody Malecontent
Shall set the senseless Rabble in an Uproar?
Fright them with Dangers, and perplex their Brains,
Each Day with some fantastic giddy Change?

GLO'STER.

What if some Patriot for the Public Good,
Should vary from your Scheme, new mould the State?

HASTINGS.

Curse on the innovating Hand attempts it!
Remember him, the Villain, righteous Heav'n,
In thy great Day of Vengeance: Blast the Traitor
And his pernicious Counsels; who for Wealth,
For Pow'r, the Pride of Greatness, or Revenge,
Would plunge his native Land in Civil Wars.

GLO'STER.

You go too far, my Lord.

HASTINGS.

Your Higness' Pardon — —
Have we so soon forgot those Days of Ruin,
When York and Lancaster drew forth the Battles;
When, like a Matron, butcher'd by her Sons,
And cast beside some common way a Spectacle
Of Horror and Affright to Passers by,
Our groaning Country bled at ev'ry Vein;
When Murders, Rapes, and Massacres prevail'd;
When Churches, Palaces, and Cities blaz'd;
When Insolence and Barbarism triumph'd,
And swept away Distinction; Peasants trod
Upon the Necks of Nobles; Low were laid
The reverend Crosier, and the holy Mitre
And Desolation cover'd all the Land?
Who can remember this, and not, like me,
Here vow to sheath a Dagger in his Heart,
Whose damn'd Ambition would renew those Horrow
And set, once more, that Scene of Blood before us.

GLO'STER.

How now! so hot!

HASTINGS.

So brave, and so resolv'd.

GLO'STER.

Is then our Friendship of so little moment,
That you could arm your Hand against my Life?

HASTINGS.

I hope your Highness does not think I meant it
No, Heav'n forbid that e'er your princely Person
Should come within the Scope of my Resentment

GLO'STER.

Oh, noble Hastings! Nay, I must embrace you.
By holy Paul! you're a right honest Man;
The Time is full of Danger and Distrust,
And warns us to be wary. Hold me not
Too apt for Jealousy and light Surmise,
If when I meant to lodge you next my Heart,
I put your Truth to trial. Keep your Loyalty,
And live your King and Country's best Support
For me, I ask no more than Honor gives,
To think me yours, and rank me with your Friends.

HASTINGS.

Accept what Thanks a grateful Heart should pay.
Oh! princely Glo'ster! judge me not ungentle,
Of Manners rude, and insolent of Speech,
If when the public Safety is in question,
My Zeal flows warm and eager from my Tongue.

GLO'STER.

Enough of this! To deal in wordy Compliment
Is much against the Plainness of my Nature;
I judge you by myself, a clear true Spirit;
And, as such, once more join you to my Bosom;
Farewel, and be my Friend.

HASTINGS.

I am not read,
Nor skill'd and practis'd in the Arts of Greatness,
To kindle thus, and give a Scope to Passion.
The Duke is surely noble; but he touch'd me
Ev'n on the tend rest Point; the Master-string
That makes most Harmony or Discord to me.
I own the glorious Subject fires my Breast,
And my Soul's darling Passion stands confest;
Beyond or Love's or Friendship's sacred Band,
Beyond myself I prize my native Land:
On this Foundation would I build my Fame,
And emulate the Greek and Roman Name;
Think England 's Peace bought cheaply with my Blood,
And die with pleasure for my Country's Good.