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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle of Hexham;, by George Colman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Battle of Hexham;
+       or, Days of Old; a play in three acts
+
+Author: George Colman
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2011 [EBook #36515]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven desJardins, David Garcia and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+  BATTLE OF HEXHAM
+  MARGARET--STRIKE NOT ON THY ALLEGIANCE
+  ACT II. SCENE III
+  PAINTED BY HOWARD PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN & CO ENGRAVD BY STOW]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; OR, DAYS OF OLD;
+
+A PLAY, IN THREE ACTS;
+
+BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER.
+
+AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET.
+
+PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.
+
+WITH REMARKS BY MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  LONDON:
+  PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+
+  WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER,
+  LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+REMARKS.
+
+
+Mr. Colman acquaints his readers, in his Preface to this play, dated
+1808, that it was written near twenty years ago: then, stating, as an
+apology to his jocose accusers, this reason for having made Shakespeare
+the model for his dialogue--that plays, which exhibit incidents of
+former ages, should have the language of the characters conform to
+their dress--he adds--"To copy Shakspeare, in the general _tournure_ of
+his phraseology, is a mechanical task, which may be accomplished with
+a common share of industry and observation:--and this I have attempted
+(for the reason assigned); endeavouring, at the same time, to avoid a
+servile quaintness, which would disgust. To aspire to a resemblance of
+his boundless powers, would have been the labour of a coxcomb;--and had
+I been vain enough to have essayed it, I should have placed myself in a
+situation similar to that of the strolling actor, who advertised his
+performance of a part"--"In imitation of the inimitable Garrick."
+
+"The Battle of Hexham" has been one of the author's most popular works;
+and has, perhaps, to charge its present loss of influence with the
+public, to those historical events of modern times, which have steeled
+the heart against all minor scenes of woe, and deprived of their
+wonted interest the sorrows of Queen Margaret and her child.
+
+There is a short, but well known narrative, written by one Clery,
+an humble valet de chambre--which, for pathetic claims, in behalf of
+suffering majesty and infant royalty, may bid defiance to all that
+history has before recorded, or poets feigned, to melt the soul to
+sympathy.
+
+Nor can anxiety be now awakened in consequence of a past battle at
+Hexham, between a few thousand men, merely disputing which of two
+cousins should be their king, when, at this present period, hundreds
+of thousands yearly combat and die, in a cause of far less doubtful
+importance.
+
+The loyal speeches of Gondibert, in this play, his zeal in the cause of
+his sovereign, every reader will admire--yet one difficulty occurs to
+abate this admiration--Did Gondibert know who his sovereign _was_? This
+question seems to be involved in that same degree of darkness, in which
+half the destructive battles which ever took place have been fought.
+
+The adverse parties at Hexham had each a sovereign. Edward the Fourth
+was the lawful king of the York adherents, as Henry the Sixth was of
+those of Lancaster; and Edward had at least birthright on his side,
+being the lineal descendant of the elder brother of Henry the Fourth,
+and, as such, next heir to Richard the Second, setting aside the
+usurper.--But, possibly, the degraded state of Henry the Sixth was
+the strongest tie, which bound this valiant soldier to his supposed
+allegiance;--for there are politicians so compassionate towards the
+afflicted, or so envious of the prosperous, they will not cordially
+acknowledge a monarch until he is dethroned.--Even the people of
+England never would allow the Bourbon family to be the lawful kings
+of France, till within these last fifteen years[1].
+
+The youthful reader will delight in the conjugal ardour of Adeline;
+whilst the prudent matron will conceive--that, had she loved her
+blooming offspring, as she professes, it had been better to have
+remained at home for their protection, than to have wandered in camps
+and forests, dressed in vile disguise, solely for the joy of seeing
+their father.--But prudence is a virtue, which would destroy the best
+heroine that ever was invented. A mediocrity of discretion even,
+dispersed among certain characters of a drama, might cast a gloom over
+the whole fable, divest every incident of its power to surprise, take
+all point from the catastrophe, and, finally, draw upon the entire
+composition, the just sentence of condemnation.
+
+[Footnote 1: It was since the French Revolution that the crown of
+England relinquished its title and claim to the kingdom of France.]
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONĘ.
+
+
+  MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE                _Mr. Gardner._
+  DUKE OF SOMERSET                   _Mr. Johnson._
+  A NOBLEMAN                         _Mr. Iliffe._
+  LA VARENNE                         _Mr. Williamson._
+  PRINCE OF WALES                    _Miss Gaudry._
+  GONDIBERT                          _Mr. Bannister, jun._
+  BARTON                             _Mr. Aickin._
+  GREGORY GUBBINS                    _Mr. Edwin._
+  FOOL                               _Mr. R. Palmer._
+  CORPORAL                           _Mr. Baddeley._
+  DRUMMER                            _Mr. Moss._
+  FIFER                              _Mr. Barret._
+  FIRST ROBBER                       _Mr. Bannister, sen._
+  SECOND DITTO                       _Mr. Davies._
+  THIRD DITTO                        _Mr. Chapman._
+  FOURTH DITTO                       _Mr. Rees._
+  OTHER ROBBERS                      _Mr. Mathews_, _Mr. Chambers_, _&c._
+  FIRST MALE VILLAGER                _Mr. Burton._
+  SECOND DITTO                       _Mr. Painter._
+  FIRST FEMALE SINGING VILLAGER      _Mrs. Bannister._
+  SECOND DITTO                       _Mrs. Iliffe._
+  MARGARET                           _Mrs. S. Kemble._
+  ADELINE                            _Mrs. Goodall._
+
+  _Various ROBBERS, SOLDIERS, VILLAGERS, &c. &c._
+
+
+_SCENE--Northumberland._
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+ACT THE FIRST.
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+    _An open Country, near Hexham, in Northumberland; with a distant
+    View of HENRY THE SIXTH'S Camp. Time Day-break._
+
+
+_Enter ADELINE, in Man's Habit and Accoutrements._
+
+_Adeline._ Heigho! Six dark and weary miles, and not yet at the camp.
+How tediously affliction paces!--Come, Gregory! come on. Why, how you
+lag behind!--Poor simple soul! what cares has he to weigh him down? Oh,
+yes,--he has served me from my cradle; and his plain honest heart feels
+for his mistress's fallen fortunes, and is heavy.--Come, my good
+fellow, come!
+
+_Enter GREGORY._
+
+_Gregory._ Mercy on us, how my poor legs do ache!
+
+_Adeline._ What, with only six miles this morning?--Fie!
+
+_Gregory._ Six!--sixteen, if we've gone an inch; my feet are cut
+to pieces. A man may as well do penance, with pease in his shoes,
+as trudge over these confounded roads in Northumberland. I used to
+wonder, when we were at home, in the south, where it is as smooth as
+a bowling-green, what the labourers did with all the loose stones they
+carried off the highways; but now, I find, they come and shoot their
+rubbish in the northern counties. I wish we had never come into them,
+with all my heart!
+
+_Adeline._ Then, you are weary of my service--you wish you had not
+followed me.
+
+_Gregory._ Who I? Heaven forbid!--I'd follow you to the end of the
+world:--nay, for that matter, I believe I shall follow you there; for
+I have tramped after you a deuced long way, without knowing where we
+are going. But I'd live, ay, and die for you too.
+
+_Adeline._ Well, well; we must to the wars, my good fellow.
+
+_Gregory._ The wars! O lud! that's taking me at my word with a
+vengeance! I never could abide fighting--there's something so plaguy
+quarrelsome in it.
+
+_Adeline._ Then you had best return. We now, Gregory, are approaching
+King Henry's camp.
+
+_Gregory._ Are we? Oh dear, oh dear! Pray, then, let us wheel about as
+fast as we can.
+
+_Adeline._ Don't you observe the light breaking through the tents
+yonder?
+
+_Gregory._ Mercy on me! they are tents, sure enough! Come, madam, let's
+be going, if you please.
+
+_Adeline._ Why, whither should I go, poor simpleton? My home is
+wretchedness. The wars I seek have made it so; they have robbed me of
+my husband; comfort now is lost to me. Oh! Gondibert, too faithful to
+a weak cause, our ruin is involved with our betters!
+
+_Gregory._ Oh, rot the cause, say I! Plague on the House of Lancaster!
+it has been many a noble gentleman's undoing. The white and red roses
+have caused more eyes to water in England, than if we had planted
+the whole island with onions. Such a coil kept up with their two
+houses!--one's so old and t'other's so old!--they ought both to be
+pulled down, for a couple of nuisances to the nation.
+
+_Adeline._ Peace! peace, man!--half such a word, spoken at random,
+might cost your life. The times, Gregory, are dangerous.
+
+_Gregory._ Very true, indeed, madam. Death has no modesty in him
+now-a-days; he stares every body full in the face. I wish we had kept
+quiet at home, out of his way. Who knows but my master, Lord Gondibert,
+might have returned to us, unexpectedly; I'm sure he left us
+unexpectedly enough; for the deuce a bit of any notice did he give us
+of his going.
+
+_Adeline._ Ay, Gregory; was it not unkind? And yet I will not call him
+so--the times are cruel--not my husband.--His affection had too much
+thought in it to change. His regular love, corrected by the steady
+vigour of his mind, knew not the turbulence of boyish raptures; but,
+like a sober river in its banks, flowed with a sweet and equal current.
+Oh! it was such a placid stream of tenderness!--How long is it since
+your master left us, Gregory?
+
+_Gregory._ Six months come to-morrow, madam. I caught a violent cold
+the very same day: it has settled in my eyes, I believe, for they have
+been troublesome to me ever since. Ah! I shall never forget that morning;
+when the spies of the House of York, that's got upon the throne,
+surrounded him for being an old friend to the Lancasters. Egad, he laid
+about him like a lion!--Out whips his broad-sword; whack he comes me
+one over the sconce; pat he goes me another on the cheek; and, after
+putting them all out of breath, about he wheels his horse, and we have
+never seen nor heard of him since.
+
+_Adeline._ And, from that day to this, I have in vain cherished hopes
+of his return.--Fearful, no doubt, of being surprised, he keeps
+concealed.--Thus is he torn from me--torn from his children--poor
+tender blossoms! too weak to be exposed to the rude tempest of the
+times, and leaves their innocence unsheltered!
+
+_Gregory._ Yes, and mine among the rest. But what is it you mean to
+do, madam?
+
+_Adeline._ To seek him in the camp. The Lancasters again are making
+head, here, in the north. If he have had an opportunity of joining
+them, 'tis more than probable he is in their army. Thither will
+we;--and for this purpose have I doff'd my woman's habit; leaving my
+house to the care of a trusty friend: and, thus accoutred, have led
+you, Gregory, the faithful follower of my sorrows, a weary journey half
+over England.
+
+_Gregory._ Weary! oh dear, no--not at all--I could turn about again
+directly, and walk back, brisker by half than I came.
+
+_Adeline._ What, man, afraid! Come, come; we run but little risk.
+Example, too, will animate us. The very air of the camp, Gregory, will
+brace your courage to the true pitch.
+
+_Gregory._ That may be, madam; and yet, for a bracing air, people are
+apt to die in it, sooner than in any other place.
+
+_Adeline._ Pshaw! pr'ythee, man, put but a confident look on the
+matter, and we shall do, I warrant. A bluff and blustering outside
+often conceals a chicken heart. Mine aches, I am sure! but I will hide
+my grief under the veil of airy carelessness.--Down, sorrow! I'll be
+all bustle, like the occasion. Come, Gregory! Mark your mistress, man,
+and learn: see how she'll play the pert young soldier.
+
+
+SONG.--ADELINE.
+
+  _The mincing step, the woman's air,_
+    _The tender sigh, the soften'd note,_
+  _Poor Adeline must now forswear,_
+    _Nor think upon the petticoat._
+
+  _Since love has led me to the field,_
+    _The soldier's phrase I'll learn by rote;_
+  _I'll talk of drums, of sword and shield,_
+    _And quite forget my petticoat._
+
+  _When the loud cannon's roar I hear,_
+    _And trumpets bray with brazen throat,_
+  _With blust'ring, then, I'll hide my fear,_
+    _Lest I betray my petticoat._
+
+  _But ah! how slight the terrors past,_
+    _If he on whom I fondly dote,_
+  _Is to my arms restored at last;--_
+    _Then--give me back my petticoat!_
+
+
+[Exit ADELINE.
+
+_Gregory._ Well, if I must go, I must. I cannot help following my poor
+Lady Adeline--affection has led many a bolder man by the nose than I.
+I wonder, though, how your bold fellows find themselves just before
+they're going to fight. I wonder if they have any uncomfortable sort
+of sticking in the throat, and a queer kind of a cold tickling feel in
+some part of the flesh. Ah! Gregory, Gregory Gubbins! your peaceable
+qualities will never do for a camp. I never could bear gunpowder, since
+I got fuddled at the fair, and the boys tied crackers, under Dobbin's
+tail, in the Market Place.
+
+
+SONG.--GREGORY GUBBINS.
+
+  _What's a valiant Hero?_
+    _Beat the drum,_
+    _And he'll come:--_
+  _Row de dow dero!_
+
+  _Nothing does he fear, O!_
+    _Risks his life,_
+    _While the fife--_
+  _Twittle, twittle twero--_
+  _Row de dow de dow,_
+  _Twittle, twittle twero._
+
+  _Havock splits his ear, O!_
+    _Groans abound,_
+    _Trumpets sound,_
+  _Ran tan tan ta tero--_
+  _Twittle, twittle twero._
+
+  _Then the scars he'll bear, O!_
+    _Muskets roar,_
+    _Small shot pour--_
+  _Rat tat tat to tero--_
+  _Pop, pop, pop,_
+  _Twittle, twittle twero._
+
+  _What brings up the rear, O?_
+    _In comes Death;_
+    _Stops his breath;--_
+  _Good bye, valiant Hero!--_
+  _Twittle twittle, rat a tat,_
+  _Pop, pop, pop, row de dow, &c. &c._                           [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+    HENRY THE SIXTH'S _Camp, at Hexham._
+
+_Enter a DRUMMER and a FIFER._
+
+_Drum._ Morrow to you, Master Tooting--a merry day-breaking to your
+worship.
+
+_Fifer._ A sad head-breaking, I fancy. Plaguy troublesome times,
+brother! Buffetted, by the opposite party, out of one place, and now
+waiting till they come to buffet us out of another. Whenever they do
+come, let me tell you, a man will scarce have time to get up from his
+straw bed, before he's laid down again by a long shot of the enemy. We
+shall be popp'd at like a parcel of partridges, rising from stubble.
+
+_Drum._ Pshaw! plague, what signifies taking matters to heart? Luck's
+all. War's a chance, you know. If one day's bad, another's better.
+What matters an odd drubbing, or so? A soldier should never grumble.
+
+_Fifer._ Why, zouns! flesh and blood, nor any thing that belongs to a
+camp, can't help it. Do, now, only give your drum a good beating, and
+mind what a damn'd noise it will make.--Not grumble, when we take so
+many hard knocks?
+
+_Drum._ No, to be sure; else how should we be able to return them?
+
+_Fifer._ Ay, there stands the case; we never can return them. Others
+can have a blow, and give a blow; but as for me, and yourself, and Kit
+Crackcheeks, the trumpeter; 'sbud, they may thump us from morning to
+night, and all the revenge we have, is--Toot-a-too, rub-a-dub, and
+tantararara.
+
+_Drum._ O fie! learn to know our consequence better, brother, I beseech
+you. My word for it, we are the heros that do all the execution. Who
+but we keep up the vigour of an engagement, and the courage of the
+soldiers? Fear, brother, is, for all the world, like your bite of a
+tarantula; there's no conquering its effects without music. We are of
+as much consequence to an army, as wind to a windmill: the wings can't
+be put in motion without us.
+
+_Fifer._ Marry, that's true: and if two armies ever meet without coming
+to blows, nothing but our absence can be the occasion of it. The only
+way to restore harmony is, to take away our music.
+
+_Enter a CORPORAL and SOLDIERS._
+
+_Soldier._ Come along, my boys; now for the news!
+
+_Corp._ Silence!
+
+_Soldiers._ Ay, ay--Silence.
+
+_Corp._ Hold your peace, there, and listen to what I'm going to inform
+you--Hem!--Who am I?
+
+_All Soldiers._ Our corporal! Alick Puff;--our corporal.
+
+_Corp._ O ho! am I so?--then obey orders, you riotous rascals, and keep
+your tongues between the few teeth the civil war has been civil enough
+to leave you. What! is it for a parcel of pitiful privates to gabble
+before their superior officer! know yourselves for a set of ignorant
+boobies, as you are--and do not forget that I am at the head of you.
+
+_Drum._ But, pr'ythee, good Master Corporal, what news?
+
+_Corp._ Ay, there it is; good Master Corporal, and sweet Master Corporal,
+the news? who is to tell you, but I? and what do I ever get by it?
+
+_Fifer._ Come, come, you shall have our thanks with all our hearts;--we
+promise you that.
+
+_Soldier._ Ay, ay, that you shall--now for it!
+
+_Corp._ Then!--You remember your promise?
+
+_All Soldiers._ Yes, yes, we do.
+
+_Corp._ Why, then, you'll all have your throats cut before to-morrow
+morning.
+
+_All._ How!
+
+_Drum._ Pshaw! it can't be!
+
+_Corp._ See there, now! just as I expected.--After all I have imparted,
+merely for your pleasure and satisfaction, not a man among you has the
+gratitude to say, thank you, Corporal, for your kind information.
+
+_Drum._ But, is the enemy at hand?
+
+_Corp._ No matter, Mum! only when the business is over with you, and
+you are all stiff in the field, do me the credit to say, afterwards, I
+was the first that told you it would happen. I, Alexander Puff, corporal
+to King Henry the Sixth, (Heaven bless him!) in his majesty's camp, at
+Hexham, in Northumberland.
+
+_Fifer._ Well, though they do muster strong, we may make Edward's party
+skip for all that; if we have but justice on our side.
+
+_Corp._ Well said, Master Wiseacre!--Justice! No, no! Might overcomes
+right, now a days. Bully Rebellion has almost frightened Justice out of
+her wits; and, when she ventures to weigh causes, her hand trembles so
+confoundedly, that half the merits tumble out of the scale.
+
+_Fifer._ But, still, I say----
+
+_Corp._ Say no more--but take care of yourself in the battle--that's
+all.--'Sblood! if the enemy were to find your little, dry, taper
+carcase, pink'd full of round holes, they'd mistake you for your own
+fife. But, remember this, my lads. Edward of York has again shoved King
+Henry from his possessions, and squatted his own usurping, beggarly
+gallygaskins, in the clean seat of sovereignty; and here are we brave
+fellows, at Hexham, come to place him on the stool of repentance. And
+there's our king at the head of us--and there's his noble consort, the
+sword and buckler, Queen Margaret--and there's the Lord Seneschal of
+Normandy--and the Lord Duke of Somerset--and the Lord knows who!--The
+enemy is at hand, with a thumping power; so up, courage, and to
+loggerheads we go for it.--Huzza! for the Red Roses, and the House
+of Lancaster.
+
+_All._ Huzza! huzza! huzza!
+
+
+SONG.--CORPORAL.
+
+  _My tight fellow soldiers, prepare for your foes;_
+  _Fight away, for the cause of the jolly Red Rose;_
+  _Never flinch while you live; should you meet with your death,_
+  _There's no fear that you'll run--you'll be quite out of breath._
+  _Then be true to your colours, the Lancasters chose,_
+  _And the laurel entwine with the jolly Red Rose._
+
+  Chorus. _Then be true, &c._
+
+  _He who follows for honour the drum and the fife,_
+  _May perhaps have the luck to get honour for life;_
+  _And he who, for money, makes fighting his trade,_
+  _Let him now face the foe, he'll be handsomely paid._
+
+  _Then be true, &c._
+
+  _The fight fairly done, my brave boys of the blade,_
+  _How we'll talk, o'er our cups, of the havock we've made!_
+  _How we'll talk, if we once kill a captain or two,_
+  _Of a hundred more fellows, that nobody knew._
+  _Then my tight fellow soldiers prepare for your foes._
+  _And the laurel entwine with the jolly Red Rose._
+
+[Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+    _Outside of the Royal Tent._
+
+_Enter FOOL._
+
+_Fool._ Queen Margaret has sheltered me from the peltings of fortune,
+this many a year. Now the pelting has damaged my shelter; but still I
+stick to it. More simpleton I!--to stand, like a thin-clad booby, in
+a hard shower, under an unroofed penthouse. Truly, for a fool of my
+experience, I have but little wisdom: and yet a camp suits well with
+my humour; take away the fighting--the sleeping in a field--the bad
+fare--the long marches, and the short pay--and a soldier's is a rare
+merry life.--Here come two more musterers--troth we have need of
+them--for, considering the goodness of the cause, they drop in as
+sparingly as mites into a poor's box.
+
+_Enter ADELINE and GREGORY._
+
+_Adeline._ Tremble not now, Gregory, for your life!
+
+_Gregory._ Lord, madam, that is the only thing I do tremble for: if I
+had as many lives as a cat, I must borrow a tenth, I fancy, to carry me
+out of this place.
+
+_Adeline._ Pooh! pr'ythee--we are here among friends. Did you not mark
+the courtesy of the centinels; who, upon signifying our intentions, bid
+us pass on, till we should find a leader, to whom we might tender our
+services?
+
+_Gregory._ Ah! and there he is, I suppose. [_Pointing to the FOOL._]
+Mercy on us! he's a terrible looking fellow--his coat has been so pepper'd
+with musket shot in the wars, that 'tis patch'd from the very top to the
+bottom.
+
+_Adeline._ Tut, tut, man! your fears have made you blind; this motley
+gentleman's occupation has nothing terrible in it, I'll answer for
+it--we will accost him. How now, fellow?
+
+_Fool._ How now, fool?
+
+_Adeline._ What, sirrah? call you me fool?
+
+_Fool._ 'Faith may I, sir; when you call me fellow. Hail to you, sir,
+you are very well met. Nay you need not be ashamed of me for a companion;
+simple though I seem, we fools come of a great family, with a number of
+rich relations.
+
+_Adeline._ Why do you follow the camp, fool?
+
+_Fool._ For the same reason that a blind beggar follows his dog;--though
+it may lead me where my neck may be broke, I can't get on in the world
+without it. You, sir, I take it, are come, like me, to shoot your bolt
+at the enemy?
+
+_Adeline._ I come, partly, indeed, among other purposes, to offer my
+weak aid to the army.
+
+_Fool._ Your weakness, sir, acts marvellously wisely: you'll be the
+clean-shaved Nestor of the regiment.
+
+_Adeline._ If I could find your leader, I would vouch, too, for the
+integrity of this my follower, to be received into the ranks.
+
+_Gregory._ Oh no, you need not put yourself to the trouble of vouching
+for me.
+
+_Fool._ Right; for your knave, when great folks have occasion for him,
+is received with little inquiry into his character. Marry, let an
+honest man lack their assistance, and starving stares him in the face,
+for want of a recommendation.
+
+_Adeline._ Lead us to your General, and you shall be well remember'd by
+me.
+
+_Fool._ Why, as to a General, I can stand you in little stead; but if
+such a simple thing as a Queen can content you, I am your only man: for
+ being a proper fellow, and a huge tickler up of a lady's fancy, I may
+chance to push your fortune as far as another. Truly, you fell into
+good hands when you stumbled on me. [_Flourish._] Stand back, here
+comes royalty.
+
+_Enter QUEEN MARGARET, DUKE OF SOMERSET, LA VARENNE, SENESCHAL OF
+  NORMANDY, with KNIGHTS and SOLDIERS,  from the Tent._
+
+  _Som._ Here, if it please you, madam, we'll debate.
+  Our tented councils but disturb the King,
+  And break his pious meditations.
+
+  _Marg._ True, Duke of Somerset; for some there are
+  Who, idly stretch'd upon the bank of life,
+  Sleep till the stream runs dry.--Is't not vexatious,
+  That frolic nature, as it were, in mockery,
+  Should in the rough, and lusty mould of manhood,
+  Encrust a feeble mind!--Well, upon me
+  Must rest the load of war.--Assist me, then,
+  Ye powers of just revenge! fix deep the memory
+  Of injured majesty! heat my glowing fancy
+  With all the glittering pride of high dominion;
+  That, when we meet the traitors who usurp it,
+  My breast shall swell with manly indignation,
+  And spur me on to enterprise.
+
+  _La Var._ Oh! happy
+  The knight who wields his sword for such a mistress.
+  I cannot but be proud! When late, in Normandy,
+  Your grace demanded succour of my countrymen,
+  And beauty in distress shone like the sun
+  Piercing a summer's cloud--then--then was I
+  The honour'd cavalier a royal lady
+  Chose, from the flower of our nobility,
+  To right her cause, and punish her oppressors.
+
+  _Marg._ Thanks, La Varenne; our cause is bound to you;
+  And my particular bond of obligation
+  Is stamp'd, my lord, with the warm seal of gratitude.
+  Yours is a high and gallant spirit, lord!
+  Impatient of inaction, even in peace
+  It manifests its owner: for, I found you,
+  In fertile France, (that nurse of courtesy)
+  Our sex's foremost champion;--in the tournament
+  Bearing away the prize, that you might lay it
+  At some fair lady's feet: thus, in rehearsal,
+  Training the martial mind to feats of chivalry;
+  That, when occasion call'd for real service,
+  It ever was found ready--witness the troops
+  You lead to action.--Say, lords, think you not
+  That these, our high-bred Normans, mingled with
+  Our hardy Scottish friends, like fire in flint,
+  Will, when the iron hand of battle strikes,
+  Produce such hot and vivid sparks of valour,
+  That the pale House of York, aghast with fear,
+  Shall perish in the flame it rashly kindled?
+
+  _La Var._ No doubt, no doubt!
+  'Would that the time were come, when our bright swords
+  Shall end the contest! Since I pledged myself
+  To fight this cause, delay's as irksome to me,
+  As to the mettled boy, contracted to
+  The nymph he burns for, when cold blooded age
+  Procrastinates the marriage ceremony.
+
+  _Marg._ The time's at hand, my lord; the enemy,
+  Hearing of succours daily flocking to us,
+  Is marching, as I gather, towards our camp--
+  Therefore, good Seneschal, look to our troops:
+  Keep all our men in readiness;--ride thro' the ranks,
+  And cheer the soldiery.--Come, bustle, bustle.
+  Oh! we'll not fail, I warrant!--How now, sirrah?
+  How came you here?                                    [_To the FOOL._
+
+_Fool._ Willy nilly, madam, as the thief came to the gallows. I am a
+modest guest here, madam, with a poor stomach for fighting, and need
+a deal of pressing before I fall to. When Providence made plumbers, it
+did wisely to leave me out of the number; for, Heaven knows, I take
+but little delight in lead: but here are two who come to traffic in
+that commodity.                       [_Points to ADELINE and GREGORY._
+
+_Marg._ How mean you, sir? What are these men?
+
+_Fool._ Swelling spirits, madam, with shrunk fortunes, as I take
+it;--as painful to the owners, as your gouty leg in a tight boot: but
+if a man's word be not taken in the world, he's forced to come to blows
+to keep up a reputation. Poverty without spirit lets in the frost upon
+him worse than a crazy portal at Christmas; so here are a couple of
+warped doors in the foul weather of adversity, madam, who want to be
+listed.
+
+  _Marg._ I never saw a youth of better promise:
+  But say, young man, serve you here willingly
+  In these our wars?                                     [_To ADELINE._
+
+  _Adeline._ Yes, madam, if it please you;
+  And, if my youth should lack ability,
+  I do beseech you, let my honest will
+  Atone for its defect:--yet I will say--
+  And yet I would not boast--that a weak boy
+  May show you that he is zealous in your service:
+  For tho' but green in years, alas! misfortune
+  Has sorely wrung my heart!--and the proud world,
+  (I blush for't, while I utter it)--must know
+  What 'tis to suffer, ere its thoughtless breast,
+  Callous in happiness, can warm with feeling
+  For others in distress.
+
+  _Marg._ Poor youth! I pity thee.
+  And for thy willingness, which I esteem
+  In friendly working more than if thou brought'st
+  The strength of Hercules to nerve our battle,
+  Should the just Heavens smile on our enterprise,
+  I will not, trust me, youth, forget thee.--
+
+_Enter a MESSENGER._
+
+  Now the news!
+
+  _Mess._ The enemy approaches. On the brow
+  Of the next hill, rising a short mile hence,
+  Their colours wave.
+
+_La Var._ Now then for the issue!
+
+_Marg._ Ha!--So near! Who is't that leads their power?
+
+_Mess._ The Marquis of Montague, so please your Majesty.       [_Exit._
+
+  _Marg._ Then he shall find us ready. Now, my lords!
+  Remember, half our hopes rest on this onset.--
+  Some one prepare the King.               [_A KNIGHT enters the Tent._
+  If on the border
+  Of England, here, we cut but boldly through
+  The troops opposed to intercept our passage,
+  The afterwork is easy:--
+  Where's my young son!--then, like a rolling flood,
+  That once has broke its mound, we'll pour upon
+  The affrighted country, sweeping all before
+  Our flood of power, till we penetrate
+  The very heart on't.----
+  Go, bring the Prince of Wales!--Now, gallant soldiers,
+  Fight lustily to-day, and all the rest
+  Is sport and holiday.
+
+_Enter an OFFICER with the young PRINCE._
+
+  My son!--my boy.
+  Come to thy mother's bosom! Heaven, who sees
+  The anxious workings of a parent's heart,
+  Knows what I feel for thee! Alas! alas!
+  It grieves me sore to have thee here, my child!
+  The rough, unkindly blasts of pitiless war
+  Suit not thy tender years.
+
+  _Prince._ Why, mother,
+  Mustn't I be a soldier? And 'tis time
+  I should begin my exercise--by and bye
+  'Twill be too late to learn--and yet I wish
+  That I were bigger now, for your sake, mother.
+
+_Marg._ Why, boy?
+
+  _Prince._ Oh! you know well enough, for all your asking.
+  Do you think, if I were strong enough to fight,
+  I'd let these raw-boned fellows plague you so?
+
+  _Marg._ My sweet, brave boy!--Come, lords, and gentlemen;
+  Let us go cheerily to work! If woman,
+  In whose weak, yielding breast, nature puts forth
+  Her softest composition, can shake off
+  Her idle fears,--what may not you perform?
+  And you shall see me now, steel'd by th' occasion,
+  So far unsex myself, that tho' grim death
+  (Breaking the pale of time) shall stride the field,
+  With slaught'rous step,--and, prematurely, plunge
+  His dart in vigorous bosoms, till the earth
+  Is purple-dyed in gore--still will I stand
+  Fix'd as the oak, when tempests sweep the forest.
+  But, still, one woman's fear--one touch of nature,
+  Tugs at my heartstrings--'tis for thee, my child!
+  --Oh! may the white-robed angel,
+  That watches over baby innocence,
+  Hear a fond mother's prayer, and in the battle
+  Cast his protecting mantle round thee!--On--
+  Away.                                                        [_Exit._
+
+_Gregory._ I shall never know how to set about the business I am put
+upon. Of all the sports of the field, I never went a man shooting
+before in my life:--and, yet, when the lady, with the brass bason on
+her head, begins to talk big, there is a warm glow about one, that--gad!
+I begin to think 'tis courage;--for I don't know how to describe it;
+and never felt any thing like it before. [_Alarm._] Zouns! no it
+e'n't--if it is, my courage is of a plaguy hot nature; for the very
+sound of a battle has thrown me into a perspiration. Oh! my poor
+mistress's man! Oh! I wish we were at home, and I was comfortably laid
+up in our damp garret, with a fine twinging fit of the rheumatism.
+[_Huzza._] Mercy on us!--here's a whole posse, too, coming the other
+way. I'm in for it! but, if there is such a thing as the protecting
+mantle they talk'd of, I hope 'tis a pure large one; and there'll be
+room enough to lap up me, and my mistress in the tail on't.    [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+    _The Field._
+
+_Enter LA VARENNE, followed by the FOOL._
+
+  _La Var._ Death and shame!
+  Are these the rough, and hardy northern men,
+  That were to back my Normans? Why, they fly,
+  Like skimming shadows, o'er a mountain's side,
+  Chased by the sun.
+
+_Fool._ True; the heat of the battle is too strong for their cold
+constitutions.
+
+  _La Var._ Here, sirrah, take this token to the King:--
+  Go with your utmost speed: entreat him, quickly,
+  To bring his forces in reserve. This effort
+  Restores, or kills, our hope.--Yet I'll fight all out;
+  I'll shake these pillars of the White-rose House
+  Till the whole building totters, tho' its fall
+  Should crush me in the ruins.                                [_Exit._
+
+_Fool._ Well said, Sampson--that's a bold fellow, and I'm on his side.
+Red roses for ever!
+
+_Enter a SOLDIER, of the White Rose Party._
+
+_Soldier._ Now, fellow, speak! tell me who you fight for.
+
+_Fool._ Marry, will I, very willingly. Pray canst tell who has the best
+of the battle?
+
+_Soldier._ The White Rose, to be sure: we are the strongest.
+
+_Fool._ Thank you, friend: pass on--I'm on your side. [_Exit SOLDIER._]
+A low clown, now, might stagger at this shifting; but your true,
+court-bred fool, always cuts the cloth of his conscience to the fashion
+of the times.                                                  [_Exit._
+
+_Enter GREGORY and ADELINE, hastily._
+
+_Gregory._ Run, run, madam! follow a blockhead's advice, and run, or
+'tis all over with us.
+
+_Adeline._ Whither shall I fly! Fatigue and despair so wear and press
+me, I scarcely know what course to take.
+
+_Gregory._ Take to your legs, madam! Get on now, or we shall never be
+able to get off. Come, my dear, good, Lady Adeline! Lord! Lord! only to
+see now, what little resolution people have, that they can't run away
+when there's danger. [_Shout._] Plague on your shouting! Since they
+must make soldiers of us--the light troops against the field, say I!
+
+                                 [_Exit, running, followed by ADELINE._
+
+_Alarm--Shout--and Retreat sounded._
+
+
+SCENE V.
+
+    _Open Country._
+
+_Enter the MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE, EGBERT, and
+  other LORDS of the White Rose Party, SOLDIERS, &c._
+
+  _Mont._ Cheerly, my valiant friends! the field is ours.
+  The scatter'd Roses of the Lancasters,
+  Now deeper tinted, blush a double red,
+  In shame of this defeat. Oh! this will much
+  Rejoice King Edward!--Say, has any friend
+  Made Henry sure?
+
+  _Egbert._ He is escaped alone, my lord! and Margaret,
+  Who, with her little son, went, hand in hand,
+  Hovering about the field, with anxious hope,
+  Ev'n to the very last; when she perceived
+  Her lines broke thro'--her troops almost dispersed,--
+  She hung upon her boy, in silent anguish,
+  Till the big tear dropt in his lily neck:
+  Then, kissing him, as by a sudden impulse,
+  Which mothers feel, she snatch'd him to her bosom,
+  And fled with her young treasure in her arms:----
+  Nature so spoke in't, that our very soldiers
+  Were soften'd at the scene, and, dull'd with pity,
+  Grew sluggish in pursuit.
+
+  _Mont._ Well, let them go:--
+  Their cause is, now, become so weak, and sickly,
+  That, tho' the head exist, to plot fresh mischief,
+  They will want limbs to execute,--Their House,
+  (Once strong and mighty,) like a a palsied Hercules,
+  Must, now, lament it has outlived its powers.--
+  Meantime, as we return, in pride of conquest,
+  Let us impress the minds of Englishmen
+  With new-won glories of the House of York.
+  Strike drum!--Sound trumpet!--Let the air be rent,
+  With high and martial songs of victory.
+
+
+GRAND CHORUS.
+
+        _Strike!--the God of Conquest sheds_
+        _His choicest laurels on our heads:_
+            _Mars, with fury-darting eye,_
+          _Smooths his brow, and stalks before us;_
+          _Leading our triumphant chorus,_
+            _Hand in hand, with victory._
+  _And hark! the thund'ring drum, and fife's shrill tone,_
+  _With brazen trumpet's clang, proclaim the day our own._
+
+                                                             [_Huzzas._
+
+
+
+
+ACT THE SECOND.
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+    _A Cave, in Hexham Forest; in which ROBBERS are discovered, drinking._
+
+
+OLD GLEE, AND OLD WORDS.
+
+  _When Arthur first, in court, began_
+    _To wear long hanging-sleeves,_
+  _He entertain'd three serving-men,_
+    _And all of them were thieves._
+
+  _The first he was an Irishman,_
+    _The second was a Scot,_
+  _The third he was a Welshman,_
+    _And all were knaves, I wot._
+
+  _The Irishman, he loved Usquebaugh,_
+    _The Scot loved ale, called blue-cap;_
+  _The Welshman he loved toasted cheese,_
+    _And made his mouth like a mouse-trap._
+
+  _Usquebaugh burnt the Irishman,_
+    _The Scot was drown'd in ale;_
+  _The Welshman had like t' have been choak'd with a mouse,_
+    _But he pull'd her out by the tail._
+
+
+_1 Rob._ Sung like true and noble boys of plunder! Isn't this
+free-booting spirit, now, better than leading a cowardly life of musty
+regularity? Honesty is a scarce and tender commodity, that perishes
+almost as soon as it appears:--the rich man is not known to have it,
+for fortune has never put him to the test; and the poor blockhead, that
+boasts on't, dies for hunger in proving it.
+
+_2 Rob._ Right; it is but a fever in the blood, that soon kills the
+patient if it be not expelled.--I had the fever, once.
+
+_4 Rob._ And what was your cure for't?
+
+_2 Rob._ Starving. Ever while you live, starve your fever:--when
+honesty is your case, only call in poverty as physician, and the
+disease soon yields to his prescriptions.
+
+_1 Rob._ Pshaw! plague on your physic? aren't we taking our wine in the
+full vigour of roguery? This it is [_Holding the Bottle._] that gives
+courage to poor knaves to knock down rich fools, in the forest;--just
+as it gives rich fools spirits to sally forth, and break poor knaves'
+heads, in the town. Come, as I'm Lieutenant, and our Captain is prowling,
+let's to business:--read over the list of our yesterday's booties.
+
+_2 Rob._ Agreed! but, first, one more round; one health; one general
+health, and then we'll to't.
+
+_1 Rob._ Here it is then--here's a short, little, snug, general health,
+that hits most humours; it suits your soldier, your tithe parson, your
+lawyer, your politician, just as well as your robber.
+
+_All._ Now for it.                                         [_All rise._
+
+_1 Rob._ Plunder!                                            [_Drinks._
+
+_All._ Plunder!                                           [_All drink._
+
+_1 Rob._ And now for the list.
+
+_2 Rob._ [Reads.] _Hexham Forest, May 14th, 1462. Taken, from a single
+lady, on a pad nag, eleven pounds, four groats, and a portmanteau.--She
+seemed marvellously frightened, and whispered thanks, privately, for
+her delivery._
+
+_1 Rob._ No uncommon case--she isn't the first single lady who has been
+delivered, and whispered thanks for it in private.
+
+2 Rob. _From a Scotch laird, on his way from London to Inverness--by
+Philip Thunder in gloves; the whole provision for his journey, viz. one
+cracked angel, and two sticks of brimstone._
+
+_1 Rob._ Who has his horse?
+
+_2 Rob._ No one; the Scotch laird travelled on foot. _From a pair of
+justices of the peace, a foundered mare, a black gelding, two doublets,
+and a hundred marks in gold--they were tied back to back;--_
+
+_1 Rob._ Good! It is but right, that they who bind over so many, should
+at last, be bound over themselves; and a wise thief is ever bound in
+justice to put a foolish justice in binding.
+
+2 Rob. _Back to back, and hoodwinked--They were left, lamenting their
+fate, in the forest._
+
+_1 Rob._ Lament! O villains!--To be in the commission of the peace, and
+not know that Justice should always be blind. Marry, a good day! Are there
+any more?
+
+_2 Rob._ Only a fat friar, who was half plundered, and saved himself
+by flight.
+
+_1 Rob._ The better fortune his. Few fat friars, I fancy, have the luck
+to be saved. What did he yield?
+
+2 Rob. _The rope from his middle, a bottle of sack from his bosom, and
+a link of hog's puddings, pulled out of his left sleeve._
+
+_1 Rob._ Gad a mercy, friar! For the sack, and the sausages, they shall
+be shared, merrily, among us; and for the rope,--hum!--come, we won't
+think of that, now. [_A Horn wound lowly._] Hark! there's our Captain's
+horn!--'faith, for one who, I suspect is married, he chuses an odd
+signal of approach.
+
+_2 Rob._ Nay, though he may be married, he's no milksop; and, I warrant
+him, when he's on duty, and robbing among us, he quite forgets his
+wife, as an honest man should do. He has joined us but a short time,
+yet, egad, he heads us nobly! He'll pluck you an hundred crowns from a
+rich fellow's pocket, with one hand, and throw his share of them into a
+hungry beggar's hat, with the other. But, here he comes.
+
+_Enter GONDIBERT._
+
+_All._ Hail, noble Captain!
+
+_Gondi._ How now, my bold and rugged companions! What has been done in
+my absence?
+
+_1 Rob._ Oh, sir, a deal of business--We have been washing down old
+scores, and getting vigour for new. We have had a cup for every breach
+of the law we have committed. Marry, sir, ours is a rare cellar, to
+stand such a soaking.
+
+_Gondi._ Now then, to a business of greater import. I have been lurking
+round the camp, here, on the skirts of the forest. The parties have
+met, and a hot battle ensued. It was a long time fought with such
+stubborn courage, that, as I stood observing it, the spirit of war,
+pent up within me, had well nigh burst my breast.--Twenty times, I was
+at the point of breaking from my shelter, and joining combat. But I am
+pledged to you, my fellows;--that thought restrained me.
+
+_2 Rob._ O, noble Captain!--but who has conquered?
+
+_Gondi._ Ay, there it is:--'sdeath and fury, my blood boiled to see it!
+The sleek, upstart rascals, cut through the ranks as if--oh! a plague
+on their well feeding!--We had carried it else, all the world to
+nothing!
+
+_2 Rob._ We! why what is it to us who has the day? Do but tell us who.
+
+_Gondi._ I had forgot. The Lancasters are defeated, their soldiers
+routed, and many of their leaders dispersed about the country. Some,
+no doubt, are in the forest. Usurping war never glutted on a richer
+banquet.
+
+_1 Rob._ Why, it seems to have been a pretty feast; and, the best on't
+is, now 'tis over, we shall come in for the picking of the bones.
+
+_Gondi._ It may be so. You all, I know, will expect a rich booty; and
+they whom we shall meet will, probably, from the unsettled nature of
+the times, bear their whole wealth about their persons:--but they are
+brave, and have been oppressed;--disappointment, therefore, and their
+situation, may cause them to fight in their defence, like heros.
+
+_2 Rob._ Nay, an they fight like devils, they'll find we can match them
+in courage. Put me to any proof you please, and they shall soon find me
+a man.
+
+_Gondi._ Then, prove it, friend, by pity for the unfortunate. Believe
+me, comrades, he has little better to boast than a brute, who cannot
+temper his courage with feeling. And, now, as our expedition is at
+hand, let each of you observe my orders. If there be any whose
+appearance denotes a more than common birth, treat him with due respect,
+and conduct him to my cave. As to the plunder (which our wild life
+obliges us to exact from the way-worn passenger) on this occasion,
+pr'ythee, good comrades, take sparingly, and use your prisoners
+generously.
+
+_4 Rob._ [_Half aside, and muttering._] 'Sblood! this captain of ours
+had better take to the pulpit than the road. If he must preach so
+plaguily about generosity, he might, at least, pay for it out of his
+own pocket.
+
+_Gondi._ Who's he that dares to mutter? Come forth, thou wretch! Thus
+do I punish mutiny, and presumption.
+
+                       [_Pulls him down, and holds his Sword over him._
+
+_4 Rob._ Oh, mercy! good Captain, mercy!
+
+_Gondi._ Well, take it, though thou deservest none; and learn from
+this, thou poor, base reptile! how to show mercy to others whom fortune
+places in thy power. Now, friends, all to your posts. I shall go forth
+alone. You have your orders, and I know you will obey them strictly.
+The night steals on us apace; and the angry clouds, threatning a storm,
+add to the awful gloom of the forest. Away, boys! and be steady.
+
+_1 Rob._ As rocks, Captain. Come, bullies! all to your duties. Keep
+your ears, and lose your tongues. Listen, in silence, for the tread of
+a passenger; and, when he's near enough, spring upon him, like so many
+cats at a mouse hole.
+
+
+CATCH.
+
+                _"Buz, quoth the blue-fly."_
+                _Lurk o'er the green-sword;_
+                    _Mum let us be:--_
+                _Lurk, and mum's the word,_
+                    _For you and me!_
+  _Thro' the brake, thro' the wood, prowl, prowl around!_
+  _We watch the footsteps, with ears to the ground._
+                              _Ears to the ground._
+
+                                                     [_Exeunt ROBBERS._
+
+  _Gondi._ Here is another moment snatch'd--a short one--
+  To commune with myself:--yet, wherefore, think?
+  Why court consuming sorrow to my bosom,
+  Which, like the nurs'ling pelican, drinks the blood
+  Of its fond cherisher?
+  Why rather should not turbulence of action
+  Shake off the tax of tyrannous remembrance?
+  'Tis not the mere, and actual suffering,
+  That bends the noble spirit to the earth,
+  And cracks the proud heart's chord:--The prisoner,
+  Whose feverish limbs, for many a long, long year,
+  No summer breeze has fann'd, might still be patient,--
+  Did not remembrance, yoked with cursed comparison,
+  Enter his dungeon walls, and conjure up
+  The shadows of past joys;--then, thought on thought,
+  Like molten lead, run thro' the wretch's brain,
+  And burning fancy mads him.--Hence, Remembrance!
+  How baneful art thou to me, when this course
+  Must be thy antidote! I'll thro' the forest,
+  And seek these wanderers.--Fell necessity,
+  And the rude band that I am link'd withal,
+  Demand that I should prey on them:--yet, still,
+  My heart leans to them, tho' their fatal cause
+  Has shorn me to the quick:--for them I fled
+  My home, my dear loved----Oh, peace, Gondibert!
+  Touch not that string!--If I must think, I'll think
+  That Heaven one day may smile.                               [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+    _Part of the Forest._
+
+_Enter ADELINE and GREGORY._
+
+_Gregory._ Gently, good madam; gently, for the love of corns! Where is
+it you mean to go?
+
+_Adeline._ Even where chance shall carry us, Gregory.
+
+_Gregory._ 'Faith, madam, and if chance would carry us, it would be
+doing us a great favour; for we have walked far enough, in all
+conscience.
+
+_Adeline._ Then, here, my good fellow, we must rest ourselves.
+
+_Gregory._ Here! what in the wood? and night coming on!
+
+_Adeline._ Good faith even here!--here, for necessity demands it, we
+must pass the night: and, in the morning, the ring-dove, cooing to its
+mate, will wake us to our journey homeward. This is a retreat, were but
+the mind at ease, a king might well repose in.
+
+_Gregory._ It must be King Nebuchadnezzar then: if we haven't some of
+his grass-eating qualities, we shall find ourselves badly off for a
+supper. 'Tis ten to one, too, but we may wander here for a week,
+without finding our way out again.
+
+_Adeline._ Oh! this world! this world! I am weary on't! 'Would I had
+been some villager!--'twere well, now, to be a shepherd's boy--he has
+no cares--but while his sheep browse on the mountain's side, with
+vacant mind--happy in ignorance--he sinks to sleep, o'ercanopied with
+heaven, and makes the turf his pillow.
+
+_Gregory._ Yes, but he has plaguy damp sheets, for all that. I'd
+exchange all the turf and sky in the county, for a good warm barn and a
+blanket; and as for the cooing doves, I would not give a crack'd tester
+for a forest full of them; unless I could see some of their claws stuck
+up through the holes of a brown piecrust.
+
+_Adeline._ Fie! Gregory; be content, be content. Think that we are
+happy in this forest, in having thus escaped the enemy's fire, and be
+grateful in the change.
+
+_Gregory._ Why, we are out of the fire, to be sure; but, make the best
+on't we can, we are still in the frying-pan. And starving is one of
+those blessings for which people are not very apt to be thankful. But
+we have escaped killing; so I'll e'en be content, as long as there is
+comfort in comparison. I stumbled over a fat trumpeter in the field,
+stript and plunder'd, with his skin full of bullets. Well, I am
+thankful yet--mine is a marvellous happy lot, to be better than a dead
+trumpeter!
+
+_Adeline._ Truce now, Gregory; and consider how we can best dispose
+ourselves here, till the morning.
+
+_Gregory._ Nay, there's no need of much consideration; there's little
+distinction of apartments here, madam: we shall both sleep on the
+ground floor--and our lodgings will be pure and airy, I warrant them.
+
+_Adeline._ Peace, fool! nor let thy grosser mind, half fears, half
+levity, thus trifle with my feelings! I have borne me up against
+affliction, till my o'ercharged bosom can contain no longer.
+
+_Gregory._ O the father! look if my poor dear lady be not a
+weeping!--why, madam--Lady Adeline--dear madam! I am but a fool as you
+say; but I'm as honest and as faithful as the greatest knave of them
+all:--and haven't I sighed, sobbed, fasted, fought, and run away, to
+show you that I would stand by you to the last? and haven't I----
+
+_Adeline._ Pr'ythee, no more, Gregory! bear with, my pettishness--for,
+now and then, the tongue of disappointment will needs let fall some of
+the acid drops which misery sprinkles the heart withal.
+
+_Gregory._ Now must I play the comforter. Why, lord, madam, I think,
+when a body comes to be used to it a little, this forest must be a
+sweet, dingy, retired, gloomy, pleasant sort of a place;--besides,
+what's one night? sleeping bears it out--and I'll warrant us we'll find
+such snug delicious beds of dry leaves, that-- [_Hard shower_.] 'Sbud!
+no!--I lie--it rains like all the dogs and cats in the kingdom--there
+won't be a dry twig left, large enough to shelter a cock-chafer--we
+shall both be sopped here, like two toasts in a tankard-- [_Thunder._
+
+_Adeline._ Why, why should fortune sport with a weak woman thus! why,
+fickle goddess, wanton as boys in giddy cruelty, torture a silly fly
+before you kill it?
+
+_Gregory._ 'Faith, madam, for that matter, I am but a blue-bottle of
+fortune's myself; and, though sorrow is dry, they say, this is a sort
+of soaking it does not care to be moistened with. If it would rain good
+barrels of ale, now, sorrow would not so much mind being out in the
+storm. [_Thunder again._] No; sorrow would be disappointed there too:
+this rumbling is enough to flatten the finest beer shower, a man would
+wish to take a whet in.--Lud! lud! madam! let's get out ou't, if
+there's a hollow tree to be found.                          [_Thunder._
+
+_Adeline._ The thunder rolls awful on the ear, and strikes the soul
+with terror. The plunderer, too, perhaps catching the sulphurous flash,
+explores his wretched prey, and stalks to midnight murder.
+
+_Gregory._ Mercy on us, madam, don't talk of that!--now I think on't,
+if we were to pick and chuse, for a twelvemonth, we couldn't have
+pitched upon a more convenient place to be knocked down in. Shelter!
+dear madam! shelter.
+
+_Adeline._ Is it thus you stand by me, Gregory? I, at least, hoped you
+had valour enough to--
+
+                          [_ROBBERS appear behind, and slowly advance._
+
+_Gregory._ Exactly enough; but not a morsel to spare. So we'll e'en
+look out for a place of safety. Not that I'm afraid though.--Stand by
+you?--egad, if half a dozen, now, of stout, raw-boned fellows were to
+dare to molest you, I would make no more of whipping this [_Drawing his
+Sword._] through their dirty lungs, than I would of----
+
+                               [_ROBBERS surround ADELINE and GREGORY._
+
+_1 Rob._ Stand!
+
+_Gregory._ O mercy! mercy! I'm as dead a man as ever I was in my life.
+                                         [_Drops his Sword, and falls._
+
+_Adeline._ Heavens! when will my miseries end! Speak, friends, what
+would you have?
+
+_1 Rob._ What you have.
+
+_Adeline._ If it is our lives you seek, they are so care worn, that in
+resigning them, we part with that which is scarce worth the keeping.
+
+_Gregory._ 'Tis very true indeed. Pray don't take them,
+gentlemen;--they'll do you no kind of good.
+
+_2 Rob._ Peace!
+
+_1 Rob._ Marry, a well favoured boy. Say, youth, whence came you, and
+whither bound?
+
+_Adeline._ I scarce know whither; but I came far inland; sent by my
+father to the wars; his sword the sole inheritance his age can leave
+me. This man, a faithful servant of our cottage, in simple love has
+followed me.
+
+_1 Rob._ Well, youth; be of good cheer--He, who has little, has little
+to lose; and a soldier's pocket is seldom much lighter for emptying.
+Come; you must both with us--bring them to our captain's cave.
+
+                                     [_Exeunt FIRST and FOURTH ROBBER._
+
+_Gregory._ Oh lud; oh lud! Dear, good, sweet faced gentlemen!
+
+_2 Rob._ Peace, dolt! fear not; our captain's honourable!
+
+_Gregory._ Nay, that he must be by his company--but sweet, civil,
+honest gentlemen! [_The ROBBERS press them on._] Oh confound
+these underground apartments! We shall never get out of them alive.
+Lord! lord! how hard it is upon a man to be forced to walk to his own
+burying!
+
+             [_Exeunt ADELINE and GREGORY, hurried off by the ROBBERS._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+    _Another Part of the Forest._
+
+_Enter MARGARET, with the Young PRINCE EDWARD._
+
+  _Marg._ Why, that's well done, my boy!--so--cheerly, cheerly!
+  See, too, the angry storm's subsiding:--what,
+  Thou canst not be a-weary, Ned?--I know,
+  Thou'rt more a man.
+
+  _Prince._ Sooth, now, my legs ache sadly!
+  My heart is light and fresh though; and it mocks
+  My legs for aching. I would I had your legs,
+  And you my heart.--Your heart, I fear me, mother,
+  Is heavier far than mine.
+
+_Marg._ Dost think so, Ned?
+
+_Prince._ Ay, and I know so too:--for I am in it.
+
+_Marg._ My dear, wronged child!
+
+  _Prince._ Pr'ythee now, mother, do not grieve for me;--
+  I warrant I shall live to be a king, yet.
+
+  _Marg._ Alas! poor monkey! thou hast little cause
+
+  To be in love with greatness: thou hast felt
+  Its miseries full early.
+
+  _Prince._ Then, you know
+  I've all its good to come.
+
+  _Marg._ May Heaven grant it!
+  For thou dost promise nobly, boy. This forest
+  Will screen us from the hatred of our enemies.
+  Here, till the rage of war has ceased around us,
+  I will watch o'er thee, Ned; here guard thy life;--
+  Thy life! the hope, the care, the joy of mine!
+  And when thy harrass'd limbs have gain'd their pliancy,
+  We will resume our task: for I must lead thee
+  A painful walk, across Northumberland,
+  As far as Berwick, boy; where we may meet,
+  Again, our Scottish friends. What sayest thou Ned,
+  Shouldst joy to see thy father there?
+
+  _Prince._ Ay, mother;--
+  And, though we know he has escaped the traitors,
+  Were we but sure to find him there, I could
+  Set out directly.
+
+  _Marg._ Rest a day or two:
+  For hadst thou strength, the danger that surrounds us
+  Prevents our venturing.--Come!--on a little--
+  We will go look some moss-grown cavern out,
+  And there thou shalt repose thee, sweet.--
+
+_Enter GONDIBERT._
+
+  Come, boy! come, take my hand----
+
+                         [_GONDIBERT approaches, with his Sword drawn._
+
+  _Gondi._ Advance no further.
+
+  _Marg._ Ha! Who art thou, that comest, with murderous look,
+  Here, in the dusky bosom of the wood,
+  To intercept our passage?
+
+  _Gondi._ One of those
+  Who, stript of all, by an oppressing world,
+  Now make reprisals: if my looks be dark,
+  They best explain my purpose.
+
+  _Prince._ Fly! fly! mother!
+  The villain else, will kill us.
+
+  _Marg._ Let us pass.
+  Thou know'st us not; else would there so much terror
+  Still strike thee of our person, that--no matter.
+  What cause hast thou to stay me?
+
+  _Gondi._ Biting want;--
+  An oath sworn to my fellows;--disappointment;--
+  Despair.--I came not here to parley, lady;----quickly,
+  Yield what you have, or go where I command.
+
+  _Marg._ Command! base slave! reduced to this!--Command,
+  From thee? thou worm!
+
+                      [_Making majestically past him, with the PRINCE._
+
+  _Gondi._ Nay, nay; you fly not, lady.  [_Holds his Sword, over them._
+
+  _Marg._ Oh, Heaven! my boy! strike not, on thy allegiance!
+  Save him, I charge thee, fellow! Save my son;--
+  The son of thy anointed king.
+
+  _Gondi._ My king!                   [_Drops his Sword at their Feet._
+
+  _Marg._ Ay, look, and tremble, slave.
+
+  _Gondi._ I do indeed!--
+  And tho' my sword has never been unsheathed,
+  Since fate has link'd me to a lawless band,
+  But to intimidate, not harm the passenger,
+  I rather would have plunged its naked point
+  In mine own bosom, than have raised it thus.--
+  I do beseech your pardon:--and, if aught,
+  Wherein I may be capable of service,
+  Can make atonement, you shall find me ready,
+  Be it at what blind and perilous risk soever:--
+  For I have heard the fate of this day's battle;
+  And should a guide, whose dark, and haggard fortune,
+  Wraps him in humble seeming, be thought worthy,
+  In this the time's extremity, to direct
+  Your wand'ring steps, my zeal will prove itself
+  Warm, and unshaken, madam.
+
+  _Marg._ Thou makest amends:--
+  And the strong tide of evils, rushing in,
+  With rapid force, upon us, well might urge me,
+  Like sinking men who grasp at idle straws,
+  To accept thy service. Yet, thou may'st be false,
+  And lead my boy to his destruction.--Say,--
+  What sureties, fellow, have I of thy truth?
+
+  _Gondi._ Think on the awe-inspiring air that marks
+  A royal brow, and makes the trait'rous soul
+  Shrink at its own suggestion.--And, when care,
+  With envious weight, invades the diadem,
+  To aim an injury then--'twere monstrous baseness!
+  Oh! long, and ever, ever be there seen
+  A heaven-gifted charm round Majesty,
+  To draw confusion on the wretch, who, watching
+  A transient cloud, that dims its lustre, dares
+  Think on his sovereign with irreverence!
+  But, more to bind me, madam, to your confidence,
+  Know, I have been your soldier; and have fought
+  In this proud cause--some, haply, may remember me--
+  When fortune's sunshine smiled upon it.
+
+  _Marg._ Now--
+  For greatness ever has its summer friends,
+  Who, at the fall and winter of its glory,
+  Fly off like swallows--thou'lt betray me.
+
+  _Gondi._ Never.
+  Wrong me not in your thoughts, beseech you, madam;
+  For I will serve you truly;--truly guard
+  Your royal son.--He is but half a subject,
+  Who, in the zeal, and duty, for his monarch,
+  Feels not his breast glow for his prince's welfare.
+  And, in the moment when the time's rough trial
+  Calls, loudly, on my sworn allegiance,
+  And summons it to proof, if I abandon either,
+  May Heaven, when most I stand in need of mercy,
+  Abandon me!
+
+  _Prince._ Let us go with him, mother.
+
+  _Gondi._ I know each turn and foot-path of the forest:--
+  Can lead you thro' such blind and secret windings,
+  That will perplex pursuers, till they wander,
+  As in a labyrinth.--West of this a little,
+  There stand some straggling cottages, that form
+  A silent village; and whose humble tops,
+  Deep shadow'd by the dark o'erhanging wood,
+  Escape the notice of the traveller.
+  Thither, so please you, I'll conduct you, madam.
+  I have a friend,
+  Lowly but trusty, who shall tend upon you;
+  While I will scout the country round, to gain
+  Intelligence of your divided party.
+
+  _Marg._ [_Taking up the Sword which GONDIBERT dropped._]
+  Then, take my boy!--for I will trust thee, fellow.
+  I must perforce;--but mark;--for still I doubt:--
+  If for a moment--mark me, fellow, well!
+  Thou givest me cause to think thy damn'd intent
+  Aims at my dear child's life, that very moment,
+  Tho' that the next should be my last, I'll plunge
+  Thy weapon to thy heart.
+
+  _Gondi._ Fear not.
+
+  _Marg._ Lead on.
+
+ [_Exeunt_:--_GONDIBERT leading the PRINCE, and MARGARET following with
+                                      the Sword over Gondibert's Head._
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+    _A Village, on the Skirts of the Forest._
+
+_Enter FOOL and a VILLAGER._
+
+_Vil._ Tell me, good fellow, now, I pr'ythee--
+
+_Fool._ But wilt thou lend an ear to my tale?
+
+_Vil._ That will I; all the ears I am worth.
+
+_Fool._ Then need not I tell the story:--for, if thou lend'st all thy
+ears, then thou'lt have none left to hear it.--Wast ever in a battle,
+old boy?
+
+_Vil._ No, truly!
+
+_Fool._ Then thou art a dead man.
+
+_Vil._ What, for not being in a battle!
+
+_Fool._ Yea, marry,--by the very first rapier that comes in thy
+way;--for no man can live by the sword but a soldier;--and of soldiers
+there are three degrees; and three only.
+
+_Vil._ As how?
+
+_Fool._ As thus:--Your hot fighter--your cool fighter--and your
+fighter-shy.--The last degree makes a wondrous figure, in many
+muster-rolls.
+
+_Vil._ Of which last you make one.
+
+_Fool._ In some degree.
+
+_Vil._ And it was that made you run from the battle.
+
+_Fool._ Right; running is your only surety. Bully Achilles, the great
+warrior of old, thought otherwise; and he was vulnerable only in the
+heel:--now, my heels always insure me from being wounded.--Dost know
+why Heaven makes one leg of a man stouter than the other?
+
+_Vil._ No.
+
+_Fool._ That he may be able to put the best leg foremost, when there's
+occasion.
+
+_Vil._ And you had occasion enough, last night.
+
+_Fool._ Truly, had I; and thus came I to your cottage; where I slept on
+a bare board all night.
+
+_Vil._ Ah! Heaven knows my lodging is poor enough! but such as it is,
+you are welcome.
+
+_Fool._ Nay, I quarrel not with the lodging; I only complain of the
+board--and now wouldst thou know my story.
+
+_Vil._ I would willingly hear of the battle that was lost.
+
+_Fool._ Then pr'ythee, ask of those that found it: but, come, I'll e'en
+tell thee how it was.----Thou hast a wife?
+
+_Vil._ Yes, forsooth;--that was my old dame you saw at home.
+
+_Fool._ Keep her there; for nature plainly intended her for a homely
+woman--Didst ever quarrel with her before marriage?
+
+_Vil._ Never.
+
+_Fool._ Afterwards, a little?
+
+_Vil._ Um!--Why, to say the truth, my poor dame has a fine flourish
+with a cudgel; but people will needs fall out, now and then, when once
+they come together.
+
+_Fool._ That's the very way we lost the battle:--for had the two
+parties never met, depend on't, one had never cudgel'd the other.
+
+_Vil._ Mass! thou art a rare fellow in the field!
+
+_Fool._ Very rare;--for I never come there but when I can't help it.
+
+
+SONG.--FOOL.
+
+  _To arms, to arms, when Captains cry,_
+    _With a heigho! the trumpets blow--_
+  _To legs, to legs, brave boys, say I!_
+                _Heigho;_
+            _I needs must go._
+
+  _Arrows swift begin to fly,_
+    _With a heigho! Twang goes the bow--_
+  _And soldiers tumble down and die:--_
+                _Heigho!_
+            _I'll not do so._
+
+  _Whizzing by come balls of lead;_
+    _With a heigho! thump they go.--_
+  _Tall men grow shorter by the head;_
+                _Heigho!_
+            _I'd rather grow._
+
+  _In time of trouble I'm away;_
+    _With a heigho!--ill winds blow;_
+  _But always ready at pay day;_
+                _Heigho!_
+            _Great folks do so._
+
+_Enter another VILLAGER._
+
+_1 Vil._ Now, goodman Hobs, whence come you?
+
+_2 Vil._ There is a great lord come in, from the routed party, who has
+taken shelter in our village, since break of day. One of your great
+friends, good sir.                                      [_To the FOOL._
+
+_Fool._ Didst see him! how look'd he?
+
+_2 Vil._ I tended him, some quarter of an hour:--troth, he seem'd
+wondrous weary.
+
+_Fool._ Of thy company.--Now could I be weary too, and find in my heart
+to be dull:--but here come females; and, were a man's head emptier than
+a spendthrift's purse, they will ever bring something out on't. Hence
+comes it, that your dull husband's head is improved by your lively
+wife:--if she can bring out nothing else, why she brings out horns.
+
+_Enter VILLAGERS, Male and Female._
+
+Now, good folk, whither go you?
+
+_3 Vil._ Truly, sir, this is our season for making of hay; and here am
+I, sir, with the rest of our village, going about it.
+
+_Fool._ Now might I, were it not for disgracing the army, turn mower
+among these clowns;--and why not? Soldiers are but cutters down of
+flesh, and flesh is grass, all the world over. I'll e'en out, this
+morning, and do execution in the field.--Come, lads and maidens! One
+roundelay, and we'll to't!
+
+
+SONG AND CHORUS OF VILLAGERS.
+
+  1 Wom. _Drifted snow no more is seen;_
+            _Blust'ring Winter passes by;_
+          _Merry Spring comes clad in green,_
+            _While woodlarks pour their melody._
+                _I hear him! hark!_
+                _The merry lark,_
+          _Calls us to the new mown hay,_
+          _Piping to our roundelay._
+
+  2 Vil. _When the golden sun appears,_
+            _On the mountain's surly brow;_
+          _When his jolly beams he rears,_
+            _Darting joy--behold them now!--_
+                _Then, then, oh, hark!--_
+                _The merry lark_
+          _Calls us to the new mown hay,_
+          _Piping to our roundelay._
+
+  3 Vil. _When the village boy, to field,_
+            _Tramps it with the buxom lass,_
+          _Fain she would not seem to yield,_
+            _Yet gets her tumble on the grass:_
+                _Then, then, oh, hark!_
+                _The merry lark,_
+          _While they tumble in the hay,_
+          _Pipes alone his roundelay._
+
+  4 Vil. _What are honours? What's a court?_
+            _Calm content is worth them all:--_
+          _Our honour lies in cudgel sport;_
+            _Our brightest court a green-sward ball._
+                _But then--oh hark!_
+                _The merry lark,_
+          _Calls us to the new mown hay,_
+          _Piping to our roundelay._
+
+[Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+    _An old fashioned Apartment, in BARTON'S House, in the Village.
+      Rusty Arms, and other Military Paraphernalia hanging up, in
+      different Parts; &c._
+
+_LA VARENNE and BARTON._
+
+  _Barton._ Nay, sir, thank not me:
+  I am no trader, I, in empty forms;
+  In neat congees, and kickshaw compliments;
+  In your,--"Dear sirs," and "Sir, you make me blush;"--
+  I'm for plain speaking; plain and blunt; besides,
+  I've been a soldier:--and, I take it, sir,
+  You, who are still in service, are aware
+  That blushing seldom troubles the profession.
+
+  _La Var._ Still, friend, I thank thee.--Thou hast shelter'd me,
+  At a hard trying moment, when the buffets
+  Of tainting fortune rather would persuade
+  Friends to shrink back, than serve me.
+
+  _Barton._ 'Faith, good sir,
+  I know not how you have been buffetted:--
+  But this I know,--at least I think I know it--
+  If there's a soldier, in the world's wide army,
+  Who will not, in the moment of distress,
+  Stretch forth his hand to save a falling comrade,
+  Why, then, I think, that he has little chance
+  Of being found in Heaven's muster-roll.
+
+  _La Var._ I like thy plainness well.
+
+  _Barton._ Nay, sir, my plainness
+  Is such as Nature gave me: and would men
+  Leave Nature to herself, good faith, her work
+  Is pretty equal;--but we will be garnishing;
+  Until the heart, like to a beauty's face,
+  Which she ne'er lets alone till she has spoil'd it,
+  Is so befritter'd round, with worldly nonsense,
+  That we can scarcely trace sweet Nature's outlines.
+
+  _La Var._ Who of our party, pr'ythee, since the battle
+  Have shelter'd here among the villagers?--
+  Canst tell their names?
+
+  _Barton._ Ay, marry, can I, sir.
+  But can and will are birds of diff'rent feather.
+  Can is a swan, that bottles up its music,
+  And never lets it out till death is near;
+  But will's a piping bullfinch, that does ever
+  Whistle forth every note it has been taught,
+  To any fool that bids it. Now, sir, mark;--
+  Whoever's here, would fain be private here;
+  Whoever's here, depend on't, tell I can;--
+  Whoever's here, depend on't, tell I will not.
+
+  _La Var._ Why, this is over-caution!--would not they
+  Rejoice as readily at seeing me,
+  As I at seeing them?
+
+  _Barton._ I know not that:
+  I am no whisper-monger;--and if, once,
+  A secret be entrusted to my charge,
+  I keep it, as an honest agent should,
+  Lock'd in my heart's old strong box; and I'll answer
+  No draught from any but my principal.
+
+  _La Var._ If now thou hast a charge, old trusty, I,
+  (Believe me), am next heir to't.
+
+  _Barton._ Very like.
+  Yet, sir, if heirs had liberty to draw
+  For what is not their own, till time shall give it them,
+  I fear the stock would soon be dry;--and, then,
+  The principals might have some cause to grumble.
+
+  _La Var._ Thou art the strangest fellow! What's thy name?
+
+  _Barton._ Barton;--that I may trust you with.
+
+  _La Var._ No more?
+
+  _Barton._ No, not a pin's point more.  Pshaw! here comes one,
+  To let all out. Children, and fools, and women,
+  Will still be babbling.
+
+_Enter PRINCE EDWARD._
+
+  _Prince._ Oh! my lord, is't you!
+
+  _La Var._ Oh, my young sir! how my heart springs to meet you!
+  Where is your royal mother? is she safe?
+
+  _Prince._ She's in this house, my lord.--Last night,
+  This honest man received us:--and another,--
+  His friend--not quite so honest as he might be--
+  Did bring us hither;--'twas a rogue, my lord;--
+  Yet no rogue neither;--and, to say the sooth,
+  The rogue, my lord, 's a very honest man.
+  Lord, how this meeting will rejoice my mother!
+  And she was wishing, now, within this minute,
+  To see the Seneschal of Normandy.
+
+  _Barton._ So!
+  This is the Seneschal of Normandy!
+  Here is another secret.--Plague take secrets!
+  This is in token of their liking me;--
+  Just as an over hospitable host,
+  Out of pure kindness to his visitor,
+  Crams the poor bursting soul with meat he loaths.
+
+  _La Var._ I cannot blame thee, friend;--thou knew'st me not:
+  And, thou hast, now, a jewel in thy care,
+  Well worth thy utmost caution in preserving.
+
+  _Barton._ I need not to be told the value on't.
+  I have been sworn his mother's subject, sir; and since
+  My poor house has been honour'd with her presence,
+  The tender scenes, I've been a witness to,
+  'Twixt her, and this young bud of royalty,
+  Would make me traitor to humanity,
+  Could I betray her. There is a rapturous something,
+  That plays about an English subject's heart,
+  When female majesty is seen employ'd
+  In these sweet duties of domestic love,
+  Which all can feel,--but very few describe!
+
+  _La Var._ Oh! how thou warm'st me, fellow, with thy zeal!
+  Come, my young lord!--now lead us to her majesty.       [_To BARTON._
+
+  _Barton._ Why, as things are, I'll lead you where she is:--
+  But were they otherwise, and you had not
+  Discover'd where she is--you'll pardon me--
+  But I had led you, sir, a pretty dance
+  Ere I had led you to her. Come, I'll conduct you.          [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+    _Another Apartment, in BARTON's House._
+
+_Enter GONDIBERT and 1st ROBBER._
+
+_Gondi._ Away all night! What then? Am not I their leader? Do they
+begin to doubt me? Am not I, as it were, wedded to the party?
+
+_Rob._ Very true, noble captain: and we have treated you as a wife
+would a kind husband:--but when a husband is out all night--why--
+
+_Gondi._ Well, sir;--what then?
+
+_Rob._ Marry, then, the wife is apt to grumble a little; that's all.
+
+_Gondi._ Go to;--I had reason. What's the news?
+
+_Rob._ The news is, we have taken some stragglers, in the forest.
+
+_Gondi._ Are they of note?
+
+_Rob._ 'Faith, we have some of all qualities;--gentle and simple
+mixed:--we had no time to stand upon the picking:--they're all penn'd
+up in the back cavern;--and you must e'en take 'em like a score of
+sheep--fat and lean together. But, there is a beardless youth, follow'd
+by a cowardly serving man, who presses hard to see you.
+
+_Gondi._ What would he?
+
+_Rob._ 'Faith, sir, he would be a noble fellow. I take it he has a
+great soul, too large for the laws;--he has questioned me plentifully
+concerning you.
+
+_Gondi._ Concerning me?
+
+_Rob._ Yes; he inquired if you were married; how long you had been with
+us; your age; your stature; nay, he was particular enough to ask what
+sort of a nose stood on your face.
+
+_Gondi._ Wherefore these questions?
+
+_Rob._ Troth, I think he would like well to serve in our band; for
+he seems to have a marvellous nice notion of honour. He took up your
+dagger, of curious workmanship, that lies on your table, in the cave,
+and did so study the dudgeon on't!--Marry, the boy knows how to handle
+a weapon, I'll warrant him.
+
+_Gondi._ Where have you bestowed him?
+
+_Rob._ Why, he was so importunate, that I have brought him, and his
+man, hither along.--The man, I feared, might babble: so, I've entrusted
+him to your friend Barton, here; and he, finding he has been a butler,
+has locked him in the cellarage.
+
+_Gondi._ Conduct the youth hither.
+
+                                                        [_Exit ROBBER._
+
+  Then why should I repine? since there are others,
+  Who, in the early spring, and May of life,
+  Behold the promised blossoms of their hope
+  Nipt in the very bud. Here comes the youth;--
+  And bears a goodly outside;--yet 'tis a slender bark,
+  That Providence ne'er framed for tossing much
+  In a rough sea of troubles.
+
+_Enter ROBBER with ADELINE._
+
+_Rob._ Here, youth; this is our captain. Cheer up now, and speak
+boldly. You need not fear.--A raw youth, captain, but a mettled one,
+I'll warrant him.--A word with you.           [_Takes GONDIBERT apart._
+
+_Adeline._ It is, it is my lord!--Oh Heaven! my heart!--to find him
+thus, too!--Yet, to find him any how is transport.
+
+_Rob._ I shall look to it.--You would be private now, I take it.--Now,
+youth, plead, cleverly, to get admitted among us, and your fortune's
+made. Be but a short time with us, and it will go hard, indeed, if all
+your cares, in this world, are not shortly at an end.          [_Exit._
+
+_Gondi._ Now to your business, youth.
+
+_Adeline._ 'Tis brief.--I have been sorely wrung, sir, by the keen
+pressure of mishap.--I once had friends: they have left me. One whom
+I thought a special one--a noble gentleman--who pledged himself, by
+all the ties that are most binding to a man, to guard my uninstructed
+youth--even he, to whom my soul looked up; whom, I might say, I loved
+as with a woman's tenderness,--even he has, now, deserted me.
+
+_Gondi._ Then he acted basely.
+
+_Adeline._ I hope not so, sir.
+
+_Gondi._ Trust me, I think he did, youth; for there is an open native
+sincerity that marks thy countenance, which I scarce believe could give
+just cause to a steady friend to leave thee.
+
+_Adeline._ Now, by my holy dame, he had none to suspect me. Yet, from
+the pressure of the time,--some trying chance--but, I am wandering.
+This is my suit to you.--If you should find me fit to be entrusted with
+the secrets of your party, I could wish to be enrolled among you.
+
+  _Gondi._ Hast thou well weigh'd the hardships which our life
+  Constrains us to? Our perils; nightly watchings
+  Our fears, disquietudes; our jealousies,
+  Even of ourselves?--which keep the lawless mind
+  For ever on the stretch, and turn our sleep,
+  To frightful slumbers;--where imagination
+  Discovers, to the dull and feverous sense,
+  Mis-shapen forms, ghastly and horrible;--
+  And mixes, in the chaos of the brain,
+  Terrors, half real, half unnatural;--
+  Till nature, struggling under the oppression,
+  Rouses the sleeping wretch,--who starts, and wipes
+  The chilly drop from off his clay-cold temples;
+  And fain would call for help, yet dares not utter,
+  But trembles on his couch, silent and horror struck!
+
+  _Adeline._ Attempt not to dissuade me; I am fix'd.
+  Yet there is one soft tie, which, when I think
+  The cruel edge of keen necessity
+  Has cut asunder, almost bursts my heart.
+
+  _Gondi._ What is it, youth?
+
+  _Adeline._ That, which from my youth,--
+  For I have scarcely yet told one and twenty,--
+  Might, haply, not be thought;--yet so it is;--
+  Know, then, that I am married.
+
+  _Gondi._ Married, didst say?
+  And dost thou love----
+
+  _Adeline._ Oh! witness for me, Heaven!
+  The pure and holy warmth that fills my bosom.
+
+  _Gondi._ Nay then, my heart bleeds for thee! for thou mightst
+  As easily attempt to walk unmov'd,
+  With all the liquid fires which Ętna vomits
+  Pour'd in thy breast, as here to hope for happiness.
+  Oh! what does the heart feel, that's rudely torn
+  From the dear object of its wedded love!
+  And, still, to add a spur to gall'd reflection,
+  That very object, whom the time's necessity
+  Mads you to part with, witless of the cause,
+  Arraigns your conduct.
+
+  _Adeline._ And have you felt this!                   [_With emotion._
+
+  _Gondi._ I tell thee wretched youth--fie! thou unman'st me.--
+  Pr'ythee, return, young man!--I have a feeling,--
+  A fellow feeling for thee;--if thou hop'st
+  For gentle peace to be an inmate with thee,
+  Turn thy steps homeward;--link not with our band.
+
+  _Adeline._ Wherefore should I return? return to witness
+  The bitter load of misery, which circumstance
+  Has brought upon my house? My infant children--
+
+  _Gondi._ And hast thou children then?
+  Whose innocence has oft beguil'd thy hours;
+  Who have look'd smiling up into thy face,
+  Till the sweet tear of rapturous content
+  Has trickled down thy cheek?--Thou trying for tune!
+  Mark out the frozen breast of apathy,
+  And tho' 'twere triple cased in adamant,
+  Throw but this poisonous shaft of malice at it,
+  'Twill pierce it thro'and thro'.
+
+  _Adeline._ An if I thought 'twere so?--
+
+  _Gondi._ Hear me, young man:--
+  Thou wring'st a secret from me, which, till now,
+  Was borne in silence here; while, vulture-like,
+  It preys upon my vitals.--I am married:--
+  I have a wife--and one whom kindly nature
+  Form'd in her lavish mood:--Oh! her gentle love
+  Beam'd through her eyes, whene'er she turn'd them on me,
+  With such a mild and virtuous innocence,
+  That it might charm stern murder!--and yet I
+  Have wounded, villain like, her peace. Even I,--
+  In whom her very soul was wrapt--
+  Turn'd coward with the time, have basely left her.
+  But I am punish'd for't:--day, night,--asleep,
+  Awake,--still, or in action,--bleeding fancy
+  Pictures my wife, sitting in patient anguish;
+  Pale; mild in sufferance; mingling meek forgiveness
+  With bitter agony;--blessing him who wrongs her;--
+  While my poor children, my deserted little ones,
+  Hang on her knees, and watch the silent drops
+  Steal down her grief-worn face!--Yea, dost thou weep?
+  Shape thy course homeward then; for pangs like mine,
+  Would so convulse thee, youth, that, like an engine,
+  'Twould wrench thy tender nature from its frame,
+  And pluck life with it.
+
+  _Adeline._ Oh! my dear, loved lord!
+  Here cease those pangs;--here, in the ecstacy of joy,
+  Behold your Adeline, now rushing to the arms
+  Of a beloved husband.                       [_Running into his Arms._
+
+  _Gondi._ Merciful Heaven!
+  My Adeline! And hast thou!--Oh, my heart!
+  This sudden conflict!--thus let me clasp thee to it;
+  Ne'er to part more, till pangs of death shall shake us.
+  What hast thou suffer'd, sweet!--for me to cause--
+  And are our children----?
+
+  _Adeline._ Well, and in safety.
+
+  _Gondi._ And, to leave them too!
+
+  _Adeline._ Nay, pr'ythee, now, no more of this:--
+  Blot from thy memory all former sorrow:--
+  Or, if we think on't, be it at some moment,
+  When calm content smiles round our happy board.
+  And, trust me, now, I think our storms are over:--
+  For, on my way, I learn, the House of York
+  Has now sent forth free pardon to all those,
+  Who, long attach'd to the Lancastrian party,
+  Have not engaged in their late enterprise.
+
+  _Gondi._ Blessed chance,
+  That now constrain'd me to inaction! Adeline!
+  Once more to hold thee! to return to happiness--
+  To see our children!--
+
+_Enter FIRST ROBBER._
+
+  How now! What's the matter?
+
+_1 Rob._ Marry, the matter is, with the oaf in the cellar; the fool
+shakes as though he were in an ague; we may e'en turn him adrift any
+how, for he will no how turn to our profit. He's cowardly and poor;
+he can neither rob, nor be robbed.
+
+_Adeline._ Oh! 'tis my man: I pray you conduct him hither.
+
+_1 Rob._ I'll trundle him in; but you will make nothing of him. I have
+been trying to talk him into service, and make him fit for our party;
+but there are some manner of men 'tis impossible to work any good upon.
+                                                               [_Exit._
+
+_Adeline._ Poor simpleton! 'tis Gregory, who, in pure zeal, and honest
+attachment, has followed me.
+
+_Enter GREGORY._
+
+_Gregory._ Mercy on us! this is the great cock captain of the whole
+brood of banditti! 'Tis all over! and I have been shut up, these two
+hours, like a calf for killing. Lord! lord! if calves did but know the
+reason for their being stalled, as I have been, they'd so fall away
+with fear, that veal would not be worth the taking to market.
+
+_Gondi._ Why, how now, man?
+
+_Gregory._ Oh lud! I am a poor fellow, sir; that shall be a longtime
+getting rich, and would fain not die till I am so. Take my life, sir,
+and you take all;--I carry it about me, as a snail does his
+house:--and, truly, sir, you'll find that time has a mortgage upon it
+of forty-two years, and the furniture, of late, is so worn with ill
+usage, that the remainder of the lease is not worth your
+acceptance:--if, sweet, noble, sir, you would but----
+
+      [_During this Speech, GREGORY has been gradually raising his Eyes
+              from the Ground, till he fixes them on GONDIBERT'S Face._
+
+Eh!--Oh!--O, the father!--No!--Yes--Oh lud--Oh lord!
+
+_Gondi._ Why, dost not know me, Gregory?
+
+_Gregory._ Huzza!--He's found! [_Capering._] Dear my lord, I never was
+happier since I was born, at the sight of you.
+
+  _Gondi._ Trust me, I think so, Gregory. Come, love;
+  Let's in for calmer conference. Follow, good Gregory.
+
+                                       [_Exeunt ADELINE and GONDIBERT._
+
+_Gregory._ Here's a simple change in a man's fortune! Now might I, when
+I say 'tis he--were it not as plain 'tis he as a nose is a nose--swear
+that my eyes were putting a lie in my mouth, in very spite of my
+teeth.--Oh, the quiet, comfortable days that I shall see again! Mercy
+on me! 'Tis enough to make a coward tremble, to think on the battles my
+valour has been put to. Nothing, now again, but old fare, old rubbing
+of spoons, and a cup of old sherry, behind the old pantry door, to
+comfort my nose, in a cold frosty morning.
+
+
+SONG.
+
+"Moderation and Alteration."
+
+  _In an old quiet parish, on a brown healthy old moor,_
+  _Stands my master's old gate, whose old threshold is wore_
+  _With many an old friend, who for liquor would roar,_
+  _And I uncork'd the old sherry--that I had tasted before._
+                      _But it was in Moderation, &c._
+
+  _There I had an old quiet pantry, of the servants was the head;_
+  _And kept the key of the old cellar, and old plate, and chipp'd
+      the brown bread._
+  _If an old barrel was missing, it was easily said,_
+  _That the very old beer was one morning found dead:--_
+                      _But it was in Moderation, &c._
+
+  _But, we had a good old custom, when the week did begin,_
+  _To show, by my accounts, I had not wasted a pin;--_
+  _For my lord, tho' he was bountiful, thought waste was a sin;_
+  _And never would lay out much, but when my lady lay-in._
+                      _But still it was Moderation._
+
+  _Good lack! good lack! how once Dame Fortune did frown!_
+  _I left my old quiet pantry, to trudge from town to town;_
+  _Worn quite off my legs, in search of thumps, bobs, and cracks
+      on the crown,_
+  _I was fairly knock'd up, and very near foully knock'd down._
+                      _But now there's an Alteration,_
+                      _Oh! it's a wonderful Alteration!_
+
+                                                               [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+    _The Village._
+
+_Enter MARGARET, LA VARENNE, and PRINCE._
+
+  _Marg._ The northern coast beset!
+
+  _La Var._ Close watch'd with enemies:--'twere too bold a risk,
+  That way to seek the sea: then bend your course
+  Thro' Cumberland, so please you.----
+  At Solway Frith, we have warm friends, to favour
+  Your embarkation--Sailing, thence to Galloway,
+  With all convenient speed, we march towards Edinburgh;
+  And thitherward, I learn, the king has fled:
+  Where, in the bosom of the Scottish court,
+  You may in safety sojourn, till the succour
+  Which noble Burgundy, warm in beauty's cause,
+  Once more, no doubt, will lend, again shall plume
+  The wing of majesty.
+
+  _Marg._ Then, let sharp injury
+  Subdue base minds alone; its scalding spirit,
+  Pour'd in a royal breast, will quicken vengeance.
+  Why, worthy Seneschal, there's hope in't still!
+  Holds it not likely,
+  When our dispersed nobility shall hear,
+  We are again on foot, our royal standard
+  Will be so flock'd with friends!----
+  Here comes the fellow, whom I told you of.
+
+_Enter GONDIBERT, ADELINE, and GREGORY, behind._
+
+  Now, good friend, the news?
+
+  _Gondi._ Thus, as my spies inform me, madam:--Montague
+  Has march'd right north; towards Dunstaburgh; hoping
+  There to surprise your Majesty--
+
+  _Marg._ Let the fool on.--
+  This favours our intended march, through Cumberland.
+  What else?
+
+  _Gondi._ No more; but that some twenty,
+  Or thereabout, of your dispersed soldiers
+  Are fall'n into my power. I have ventured,
+  Finding, that, here, the village is attach'd,
+  In honest bonds of loyalty, to direct
+  My men to march them hither: if your course
+  Should need a secret guard, these few will serve,
+  When more were dangerous.
+
+  _Marg._ Oh, true, true fellow!
+  Believe me, honest friend, of all the bolts,
+  Which spiteful fortune hurls against my crown,
+  None strike so deeply, as my poor ability
+  Now to requite thy faith.
+
+  _Gondi._ The subject, madam,
+  Who, in his poor endeavour, can relieve
+  A sovereign from distress, they, who are loyal,
+  Will pour down blessings on him; that requital
+  Threefold o'erpays his services. But here,
+  Heaven has, in pity of me, now pour'd balm
+  Upon my bleeding sufferings.
+
+  _Marg._ What, my young warrior!
+
+  _Adeline._ A weak one, madam;--and a woman too.
+  Your pardon, madam, if, to seek a husband,--
+  Happy has been my search--more than the cause,
+  Altho' my heart is warm in't--brought me hither.
+
+  _Gondi._ Your guard approaches, madam, and the villagers,
+
+_Enter KNIGHTS and SOLDIERS._
+
+  Anxious, in zeal, to see their royal mistress,
+  In throngs have follow'd.
+
+_Enter VILLAGERS, MALE and FEMALE, on each Side._
+
+  _Marg._ This is a cheering sight!
+  Soon may this warmth be general; and may Henry
+  Bask in its genial sunshine.--England, awhile, farewell!
+  And if in future times--no doubt 'twill be so--
+  Thy King unite his people to his confidence,
+  And his commanding virtues, mild, yet kingly,
+  Shall draw the breath of rapturous loyalty
+  From the gilt palace to the clay-built cottage,
+  Then will thy realm, indeed, be enviable.
+  Strike!----Then on.
+
+_Procession of SOLDIERS, and Grand Chorus of VILLAGERS._
+
+  _Sea-girt England, fertile land!_
+  _Plenty, from her richest stores,_
+  _Ever, with benignant hand,_
+  _Her treasure on thy bosom pours._
+    _England! to thyself be true;_
+      _When thy realm is truly blest,_
+    _'Tis when a monarch's love for you_
+      _Is by your loyalty confest._
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
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+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type"
+    content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" />
+<meta content="pg2html (binary v0.18)" name="generator" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of
+    The Battle of Hexham; or, Days of Old; a play in three acts,
+    by George Colman, the younger.
+</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+ body { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; }
+    p { text-indent:   1em;
+        margin-top:    .75em;
+        font-size:     100%;
+        text-align:    justify;
+        margin-bottom: .75em; }
+    h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; }
+    h3 { margin-top: 3em; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; }
+    .foot { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; }
+    .poem { margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left; }
+    .poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; }
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+    .poem p.i18 { margin-left: 9.5em; }
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+    .scene { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-indent: -3em; }
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+    td { padding: 0em 1em 0em 1em; }
+    .center { text-indent: 0; text-align: center; }
+    span.pagenum { position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; color: gray; background-color: inherit; display:none!important;}
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+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle of Hexham;, by George Colman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Battle of Hexham;
+       or, Days of Old; a play in three acts
+
+Author: George Colman
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2011 [EBook #36515]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven desJardins, David Garcia and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figure">
+<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a>
+<a href="images/hexham-f.jpg"><img src="images/hexham-s.jpg" width="500" height="775"
+alt="BATTLE OF HEXHAM" /></a>
+<br />
+BATTLE OF HEXHAM
+<br />
+MARGARET&mdash;STRIKE NOT ON THY ALLEGIANCE
+<br />
+ACT II. SCENE III
+<br />
+<small>PAINTED BY HOWARD  PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN &amp; CO  ENGRAVD BY STOW</small>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page1" name="page1"></a>[1]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h1>
+    <small>THE</small><br /> <big>BATTLE OF HEXHAM;</big><br />
+    <small>OR,</small><br /> DAYS OF OLD;<br />
+    A PLAY,<br /> <small>IN THREE ACTS;</small>
+</h1>
+
+<p class="center">
+<big><span class="sc">By GEORGE COLMAN, the younger</span>.</big>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<small>AS PERFORMED AT THE</small><br /> THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET.
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<small>PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS<br /> FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.</small>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<small>WITH REMARKS</small><br /> BY <span class="sc">Mrs. INCHBALD</span>.
+</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="center">
+LONDON:
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<small>PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME,<br /> PATERNOSTER ROW.</small>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page2" name="page2"></a>[2]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p class="center">
+<small>
+WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER,
+<br />
+LONDON.
+</small>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page3" name="page3"></a>[3]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+    REMARKS.
+</h2>
+<p>
+Mr. Colman acquaints his readers, in his Preface to this play, dated
+1808, that it was written near twenty years ago: then, stating, as an
+apology to his jocose accusers, this reason for having made Shakespeare
+the model for his dialogue&mdash;that plays, which exhibit incidents of
+former ages, should have the language of the characters conform to
+their dress&mdash;he adds&mdash;"To copy Shakspeare, in the general <i>tournure</i> of
+his phraseology, is a mechanical task, which may be accomplished with
+a common share of industry and observation:&mdash;and this I have attempted
+(for the reason assigned); endeavouring, at the same time, to avoid a
+servile quaintness, which would disgust. To aspire to a resemblance of
+his boundless powers, would have been the labour of a coxcomb;&mdash;and had
+I been vain enough to have essayed it, I should have placed myself in a
+situation similar to that of the strolling actor, who advertised his
+performance of a part"&mdash;"In imitation of the inimitable Garrick."
+</p>
+<p>
+"The Battle of Hexham" has been one of the author's most popular works;
+and has, perhaps, to charge its present loss of influence with the
+public, to
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page4" name="page4"></a>[4]</span>
+
+           those historical events of modern times, which have steeled
+the heart against all minor scenes of woe, and deprived of their
+wonted interest the sorrows of Queen Margaret and her child.
+</p>
+<p>
+There is a short, but well known narrative, written by one Clery,
+an humble valet de chambre&mdash;which, for pathetic claims, in behalf of
+suffering majesty and infant royalty, may bid defiance to all that
+history has before recorded, or poets feigned, to melt the soul to
+sympathy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nor can anxiety be now awakened in consequence of a past battle at
+Hexham, between a few thousand men, merely disputing which of two
+cousins should be their king, when, at this present period, hundreds
+of thousands yearly combat and die, in a cause of far less doubtful
+importance.
+</p>
+<p>
+The loyal speeches of Gondibert, in this play, his zeal in the cause of
+his sovereign, every reader will admire&mdash;yet one difficulty occurs to
+abate this admiration&mdash;Did Gondibert know who his sovereign <i>was</i>? This
+question seems to be involved in that same degree of darkness, in which
+half the destructive battles which ever took place have been fought.
+</p>
+<p>
+The adverse parties at Hexham had each a sovereign. Edward the Fourth
+was the lawful king of the York adherents, as Henry the Sixth was of
+those of Lancaster; and Edward had at least birthright on his side,
+being the lineal descendant of the elder brother of Henry the Fourth,
+and, as such, next heir to Richard the Second, setting aside the
+usurper.&mdash;But, possibly, the degraded state of Henry the Sixth was
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page5" name="page5"></a>[5]</span>
+
+the strongest tie, which bound this valiant soldier to his supposed
+allegiance;&mdash;for there are politicians so compassionate towards the
+afflicted, or so envious of the prosperous, they will not cordially
+acknowledge a monarch until he is dethroned.&mdash;Even the people of
+England never would allow the Bourbon family to be the lawful kings
+of France, till within these last fifteen years<a href="#note-1" name="noteref-1"><small> 1</small></a>.
+</p>
+<p>
+The youthful reader will delight in the conjugal ardour of Adeline;
+whilst the prudent matron will conceive&mdash;that, had she loved her
+blooming offspring, as she professes, it had been better to have
+remained at home for their protection, than to have wandered in camps
+and forests, dressed in vile disguise, solely for the joy of seeing
+their father.&mdash;But prudence is a virtue, which would destroy the best
+heroine that ever was invented. A mediocrity of discretion even,
+dispersed among certain characters of a drama, might cast a gloom over
+the whole fable, divest every incident of its power to surprise, take
+all point from the catastrophe, and, finally, draw upon the entire
+composition, the just sentence of condemnation.
+</p>
+
+<p class="foot">
+<a name="note-1"><!--Note--></a>
+<small>1</small> (<a href="#noteref-1"><small>return</small></a>)<br />
+It was since the French Revolution that the crown of
+England relinquished its title and claim to the kingdom of France.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page6" name="page6"></a>[6]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+    DRAMATIS PERSONĘ.
+</h2>
+
+<table summary="Dramatis Personae">
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Marquis of Montague</span>              </td><td> <i>Mr. Gardner.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Duke of Somerset</span>                 </td><td> <i>Mr. Johnson.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">A Nobleman</span>                       </td><td> <i>Mr. Iliffe.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">La Varenne</span>                       </td><td> <i>Mr. Williamson.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Prince of Wales</span>                  </td><td> <i>Miss Gaudry.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Gondibert</span>                        </td><td> <i>Mr. Bannister, jun.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Barton</span>                           </td><td> <i>Mr. Aickin.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Gregory Gubbins</span>                  </td><td> <i>Mr. Edwin.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Fool</span>                             </td><td> <i>Mr. R. Palmer.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Corporal</span>                         </td><td> <i>Mr. Baddeley.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Drummer</span>                          </td><td> <i>Mr. Moss.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Fifer</span>                            </td><td> <i>Mr. Barret.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">First Robber</span>                     </td><td> <i>Mr. Bannister, sen.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Second Ditto</span>                     </td><td> <i>Mr. Davies.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Third Ditto</span>                      </td><td> <i>Mr. Chapman.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Fourth Ditto</span>                     </td><td> <i>Mr. Rees.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Other Robbers</span>                    </td><td> <i>Mr. Mathews</i>,<br />
+                                                        <i>Mr. Chambers</i>, <i>&amp;c.</i>
+</td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">First Male Villager</span>              </td><td> <i>Mr. Burton.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Second Ditto</span>                     </td><td> <i>Mr. Painter.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">First Female Singing Villager</span>    </td><td> <i>Mrs. Bannister.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Second Ditto</span>                     </td><td> <i>Mrs. Iliffe.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Margaret</span>                         </td><td> <i>Mrs. S. Kemble.</i>  </td></tr>
+<tr><td>  <span class="sc">Adeline</span>                          </td><td> <i>Mrs. Goodall.</i>  </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2" align="center">  <i>Various <span class="sc">Robbers, Soldiers, Villagers</span>, &amp;c. &amp;c.</i>
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>SCENE&mdash;Northumberland.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page7" name="page7"></a>[7]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+    THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM.
+</h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+    ACT THE FIRST.
+</h2>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE I.
+</h3>
+<p class="scene">
+    <i>An open Country, near Hexham, in Northumberland; with a distant
+    View of <span class="sc">Henry the Sixth's</span> Camp. Time Day-break.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Adeline</span>, in Man's Habit and Accoutrements.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Heigho! Six dark and weary miles, and not yet at the camp.
+How tediously affliction paces!&mdash;Come, Gregory! come on. Why, how you
+lag behind!&mdash;Poor simple soul! what cares has he to weigh him down? Oh,
+yes,&mdash;he has served me from my cradle; and his plain honest heart feels
+for his mistress's fallen fortunes, and is heavy.&mdash;Come, my good
+fellow, come!
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Gregory</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Mercy on us, how my poor legs do ache!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> What, with only six miles this morning?&mdash;Fie!
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page8" name="page8"></a>[8]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Six!&mdash;sixteen, if we've gone an inch; my feet are cut
+to pieces. A man may as well do penance, with pease in his shoes,
+as trudge over these confounded roads in Northumberland. I used to
+wonder, when we were at home, in the south, where it is as smooth as
+a bowling-green, what the labourers did with all the loose stones they
+carried off the highways; but now, I find, they come and shoot their
+rubbish in the northern counties. I wish we had never come into them,
+with all my heart!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Then, you are weary of my service&mdash;you wish you had not
+followed me.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Who I? Heaven forbid!&mdash;I'd follow you to the end of the
+world:&mdash;nay, for that matter, I believe I shall follow you there; for
+I have tramped after you a deuced long way, without knowing where we
+are going. But I'd live, ay, and die for you too.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Well, well; we must to the wars, my good fellow.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> The wars! O lud! that's taking me at my word with a
+vengeance! I never could abide fighting&mdash;there's something so plaguy
+quarrelsome in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Then you had best return. We now, Gregory, are approaching
+King Henry's camp.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Are we? Oh dear, oh dear! Pray, then, let us wheel about as
+fast as we can.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Don't you observe the light breaking through the tents
+yonder?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Mercy on me! they are tents, sure enough! Come, madam, let's
+be going, if you please.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Why, whither should I go, poor simpleton? My home is
+wretchedness. The wars I seek have made it so; they have robbed me of
+my husband; comfort now is lost to me. Oh! Gondibert, too faithful to
+a weak cause, our ruin is involved with our betters!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Oh, rot the cause, say I! Plague on the
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page9" name="page9"></a>[9]</span>
+
+                                                   House of Lancaster!
+it has been many a noble gentleman's undoing. The white and red roses
+have caused more eyes to water in England, than if we had planted
+the whole island with onions. Such a coil kept up with their two
+houses!&mdash;one's so old and t'other's so old!&mdash;they ought both to be
+pulled down, for a couple of nuisances to the nation.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Peace! peace, man!&mdash;half such a word, spoken at random,
+might cost your life. The times, Gregory, are dangerous.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Very true, indeed, madam. Death has no modesty in him
+now-a-days; he stares every body full in the face. I wish we had kept
+quiet at home, out of his way. Who knows but my master, Lord Gondibert,
+might have returned to us, unexpectedly; I'm sure he left us
+unexpectedly enough; for the deuce a bit of any notice did he give us
+of his going.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Ay, Gregory; was it not unkind? And yet I will not call him
+so&mdash;the times are cruel&mdash;not my husband.&mdash;His affection had too much
+thought in it to change. His regular love, corrected by the steady
+vigour of his mind, knew not the turbulence of boyish raptures; but,
+like a sober river in its banks, flowed with a sweet and equal current.
+Oh! it was such a placid stream of tenderness!&mdash;How long is it since
+your master left us, Gregory?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Six months come to-morrow, madam. I caught a violent cold
+the very same day: it has settled in my eyes, I believe, for they have
+been troublesome to me ever since. Ah! I shall never forget that morning;
+when the spies of the House of York, that's got upon the throne,
+surrounded him for being an old friend to the Lancasters. Egad, he laid
+about him like a lion!&mdash;Out whips his broad-sword; whack he comes me
+one over the sconce; pat he goes me another on the cheek; and, after
+putting them all out of breath, about he wheels his horse, and we have
+never seen nor heard of him since.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page10" name="page10"></a>[10]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> And, from that day to this, I have in vain cherished hopes
+of his return.&mdash;Fearful, no doubt, of being surprised, he keeps
+concealed.&mdash;Thus is he torn from me&mdash;torn from his children&mdash;poor
+tender blossoms! too weak to be exposed to the rude tempest of the
+times, and leaves their innocence unsheltered!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Yes, and mine among the rest. But what is it you mean to
+do, madam?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> To seek him in the camp. The Lancasters again are making
+head, here, in the north. If he have had an opportunity of joining
+them, 'tis more than probable he is in their army. Thither will
+we;&mdash;and for this purpose have I doff'd my woman's habit; leaving my
+house to the care of a trusty friend: and, thus accoutred, have led
+you, Gregory, the faithful follower of my sorrows, a weary journey half
+over England.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Weary! oh dear, no&mdash;not at all&mdash;I could turn about again
+directly, and walk back, brisker by half than I came.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> What, man, afraid! Come, come; we run but little risk.
+Example, too, will animate us. The very air of the camp, Gregory, will
+brace your courage to the true pitch.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> That may be, madam; and yet, for a bracing air, people are
+apt to die in it, sooner than in any other place.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Pshaw! pr'ythee, man, put but a confident look on the
+matter, and we shall do, I warrant. A bluff and blustering outside
+often conceals a chicken heart. Mine aches, I am sure! but I will hide
+my grief under the veil of airy carelessness.&mdash;Down, sorrow! I'll be
+all bustle, like the occasion. Come, Gregory! Mark your mistress, man,
+and learn: see how she'll play the pert young soldier.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page11" name="page11"></a>[11]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+SONG.&mdash;ADELINE.
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>The mincing step, the woman's air,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>The tender sigh, the soften'd note,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Poor Adeline must now forswear,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Nor think upon the petticoat.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Since love has led me to the field,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>The soldier's phrase I'll learn by rote;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>I'll talk of drums, of sword and shield,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>And quite forget my petticoat.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>When the loud cannon's roar I hear,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>And trumpets bray with brazen throat,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>With blust'ring, then, I'll hide my fear,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Lest I betray my petticoat.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>But ah! how slight the terrors past,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>If he on whom I fondly dote,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Is to my arms restored at last;&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Then&mdash;give me back my petticoat!</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[Exit <span class="sc">Adeline</span>.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Well, if I must go, I must. I cannot help following my poor
+Lady Adeline&mdash;affection has led many a bolder man by the nose than I.
+I wonder, though, how your bold fellows find themselves just before
+they're going to fight. I wonder if they have any uncomfortable sort
+of sticking in the throat, and a queer kind of a cold tickling feel in
+some part of the flesh. Ah! Gregory, Gregory Gubbins! your peaceable
+qualities will never do for a camp. I never could bear gunpowder, since
+I got fuddled at the fair, and the boys tied crackers, under Dobbin's
+tail, in the Market Place.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page12" name="page12"></a>[12]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+SONG.&mdash;GREGORY GUBBINS.
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>What's a valiant Hero?</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Beat the drum,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>And he'll come:&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Row de dow dero!</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Nothing does he fear, O!</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Risks his life,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>While the fife&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Twittle, twittle twero&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Row de dow de dow,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Twittle, twittle twero.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Havock splits his ear, O!</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Groans abound,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Trumpets sound,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Ran tan tan ta tero&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Twittle, twittle twero.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Then the scars he'll bear, O!</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Muskets roar,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Small shot pour&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Rat tat tat to tero&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Pop, pop, pop,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Twittle, twittle twero.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>What brings up the rear, O?</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>In comes Death;</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>Stops his breath;&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Good bye, valiant Hero!&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Twittle twittle, rat a tat,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Pop, pop, pop, row de dow, &amp;c. &amp;c.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[Exit.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page13" name="page13"></a>[13]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE II.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<span class="sc">Henry the Sixth's</span> <i>Camp, at Hexham.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter a <span class="sc">Drummer</span> and a <span class="sc">Fifer</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Drum.</i> Morrow to you, Master Tooting&mdash;a merry day-breaking to your
+worship.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fifer.</i> A sad head-breaking, I fancy. Plaguy troublesome times,
+brother! Buffetted, by the opposite party, out of one place, and now
+waiting till they come to buffet us out of another. Whenever they do
+come, let me tell you, a man will scarce have time to get up from his
+straw bed, before he's laid down again by a long shot of the enemy. We
+shall be popp'd at like a parcel of partridges, rising from stubble.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Drum.</i> Pshaw! plague, what signifies taking matters to heart? Luck's
+all. War's a chance, you know. If one day's bad, another's better.
+What matters an odd drubbing, or so? A soldier should never grumble.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fifer.</i> Why, zouns! flesh and blood, nor any thing that belongs to a
+camp, can't help it. Do, now, only give your drum a good beating, and
+mind what a damn'd noise it will make.&mdash;Not grumble, when we take so
+many hard knocks?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Drum.</i> No, to be sure; else how should we be able to return them?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fifer.</i> Ay, there stands the case; we never can return them. Others
+can have a blow, and give a blow; but as for me, and yourself, and Kit
+Crackcheeks, the trumpeter; 'sbud, they may thump us
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page14" name="page14"></a>[14]</span>
+
+                                                     from morning to
+night, and all the revenge we have, is&mdash;Toot-a-too, rub-a-dub, and
+tantararara.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Drum.</i> O fie! learn to know our consequence better, brother, I beseech
+you. My word for it, we are the heros that do all the execution. Who
+but we keep up the vigour of an engagement, and the courage of the
+soldiers? Fear, brother, is, for all the world, like your bite of a
+tarantula; there's no conquering its effects without music. We are of
+as much consequence to an army, as wind to a windmill: the wings can't
+be put in motion without us.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fifer.</i> Marry, that's true: and if two armies ever meet without coming
+to blows, nothing but our absence can be the occasion of it. The only
+way to restore harmony is, to take away our music.
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter a <span class="sc">Corporal</span> and <span class="sc">Soldiers</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Soldier.</i> Come along, my boys; now for the news!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> Silence!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Soldiers.</i> Ay, ay&mdash;Silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> Hold your peace, there, and listen to what I'm going to inform
+you&mdash;Hem!&mdash;Who am I?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>All Soldiers.</i> Our corporal! Alick Puff;&mdash;our corporal.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> O ho! am I so?&mdash;then obey orders, you riotous rascals, and keep
+your tongues between the few teeth the civil war has been civil enough
+to leave you. What! is it for a parcel of pitiful privates to gabble
+before their superior officer! know yourselves for a set of ignorant
+boobies, as you are&mdash;and do not forget that I am at the head of you.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Drum.</i> But, pr'ythee, good Master Corporal, what news?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> Ay, there it is; good Master Corporal, and sweet Master Corporal,
+the news? who is to tell you, but I? and what do I ever get by it?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fifer.</i> Come, come, you shall have our thanks with all our hearts;&mdash;we
+promise you that.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page15" name="page15"></a>[15]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Soldier.</i> Ay, ay, that you shall&mdash;now for it!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> Then!&mdash;You remember your promise?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>All Soldiers.</i> Yes, yes, we do.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> Why, then, you'll all have your throats cut before to-morrow
+morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>All.</i> How!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Drum.</i> Pshaw! it can't be!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> See there, now! just as I expected.&mdash;After all I have imparted,
+merely for your pleasure and satisfaction, not a man among you has the
+gratitude to say, thank you, Corporal, for your kind information.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Drum.</i> But, is the enemy at hand?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> No matter, Mum! only when the business is over with you, and
+you are all stiff in the field, do me the credit to say, afterwards, I
+was the first that told you it would happen. I, Alexander Puff, corporal
+to King Henry the Sixth, (Heaven bless him!) in his majesty's camp, at
+Hexham, in Northumberland.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fifer.</i> Well, though they do muster strong, we may make Edward's party
+skip for all that; if we have but justice on our side.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> Well said, Master Wiseacre!&mdash;Justice! No, no! Might overcomes
+right, now a days. Bully Rebellion has almost frightened Justice out of
+her wits; and, when she ventures to weigh causes, her hand trembles so
+confoundedly, that half the merits tumble out of the scale.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fifer.</i> But, still, I say&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Corp.</i> Say no more&mdash;but take care of yourself in the battle&mdash;that's
+all.&mdash;'Sblood! if the enemy were to find your little, dry, taper
+carcase, pink'd full of round holes, they'd mistake you for your own
+fife. But, remember this, my lads. Edward of York has again shoved King
+Henry from his possessions, and squatted his own usurping, beggarly
+gallygaskins, in the clean seat of sovereignty; and here are we brave
+fellows, at Hexham, come to place him on the stool
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page16" name="page16"></a>[16]</span>
+
+                                                   of repentance. And
+there's our king at the head of us&mdash;and there's his noble consort, the
+sword and buckler, Queen Margaret&mdash;and there's the Lord Seneschal of
+Normandy&mdash;and the Lord Duke of Somerset&mdash;and the Lord knows who!&mdash;The
+enemy is at hand, with a thumping power; so up, courage, and to
+loggerheads we go for it.&mdash;Huzza! for the Red Roses, and the House
+of Lancaster.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>All.</i> Huzza! huzza! huzza!
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+SONG.&mdash;CORPORAL.
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>My tight fellow soldiers, prepare for your foes;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Fight away, for the cause of the jolly Red Rose;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Never flinch while you live; should you meet with your death,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>There's no fear that you'll run&mdash;you'll be quite out of breath.</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Then be true to your colours, the Lancasters chose,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>And the laurel entwine with the jolly Red Rose.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="center">  Chorus. <i>Then be true, &amp;c.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>He who follows for honour the drum and the fife,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>May perhaps have the luck to get honour for life;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>And he who, for money, makes fighting his trade,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Let him now face the foe, he'll be handsomely paid.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="center">  <i>Then be true, &amp;c.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>The fight fairly done, my brave boys of the blade,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>How we'll talk, o'er our cups, of the havock we've made!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>How we'll talk, if we once kill a captain or two,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Of a hundred more fellows, that nobody knew.</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Then my tight fellow soldiers prepare for your foes.</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>And the laurel entwine with the jolly Red Rose.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[Exeunt.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page17" name="page17"></a>[17]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE III.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>Outside of the Royal Tent.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Fool</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Queen Margaret has sheltered me from the peltings of fortune,
+this many a year. Now the pelting has damaged my shelter; but still I
+stick to it. More simpleton I!&mdash;to stand, like a thin-clad booby, in
+a hard shower, under an unroofed penthouse. Truly, for a fool of my
+experience, I have but little wisdom: and yet a camp suits well with
+my humour; take away the fighting&mdash;the sleeping in a field&mdash;the bad
+fare&mdash;the long marches, and the short pay&mdash;and a soldier's is a rare
+merry life.&mdash;Here come two more musterers&mdash;troth we have need of
+them&mdash;for, considering the goodness of the cause, they drop in as
+sparingly as mites into a poor's box.
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Adeline</span> and <span class="sc">Gregory</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Tremble not now, Gregory, for your life!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Lord, madam, that is the only thing I do tremble for: if I
+had as many lives as a cat, I must borrow a tenth, I fancy, to carry me
+out of this place.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Pooh! pr'ythee&mdash;we are here among friends. Did you not mark
+the courtesy of the centinels; who, upon signifying our intentions, bid
+us pass on, till we should find a leader, to whom we might tender our
+services?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Ah! and there he is, I suppose. <span class="dir-i">[<i>Pointing to the <span class="sc">Fool</span>.</i>]</span>
+Mercy on us! he's a terrible looking
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page18" name="page18"></a>[18]</span>
+
+                                     fellow&mdash;his coat has been so pepper'd
+with musket shot in the wars, that 'tis patch'd from the very top to the
+bottom.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Tut, tut, man! your fears have made you blind; this motley
+gentleman's occupation has nothing terrible in it, I'll answer for
+it&mdash;we will accost him. How now, fellow?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> How now, fool?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> What, sirrah? call you me fool?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> 'Faith may I, sir; when you call me fellow. Hail to you, sir,
+you are very well met. Nay you need not be ashamed of me for a companion;
+simple though I seem, we fools come of a great family, with a number of
+rich relations.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Why do you follow the camp, fool?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> For the same reason that a blind beggar follows his dog;&mdash;though
+it may lead me where my neck may be broke, I can't get on in the world
+without it. You, sir, I take it, are come, like me, to shoot your bolt
+at the enemy?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> I come, partly, indeed, among other purposes, to offer my
+weak aid to the army.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Your weakness, sir, acts marvellously wisely: you'll be the
+clean-shaved Nestor of the regiment.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> If I could find your leader, I would vouch, too, for the
+integrity of this my follower, to be received into the ranks.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Oh no, you need not put yourself to the trouble of vouching
+for me.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Right; for your knave, when great folks have occasion for him,
+is received with little inquiry into his character. Marry, let an
+honest man lack their assistance, and starving stares him in the face,
+for want of a recommendation.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Lead us to your General, and you shall be well remember'd by
+me.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Why, as to a General, I can stand you in little stead; but if
+such a simple thing as a Queen
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page19" name="page19"></a>[19]</span>
+
+                               can content you, I am your only man: for
+ being a proper fellow, and a huge tickler up of a lady's fancy, I may
+chance to push your fortune as far as another. Truly, you fell into
+good hands when you stumbled on me. <span class="dir-i">[<i>Flourish.</i>]</span> Stand back, here
+comes royalty.
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Queen Margaret, Duke of Somerset, La Varenne, Seneschal
+of Normandy</span>, with <span class="sc">Knights</span> and <span class="sc">Soldiers</span>,
+from the Tent.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Som.</i> Here, if it please you, madam, we'll debate.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Our tented councils but disturb the King,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And break his pious meditations.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> True, Duke of Somerset; for some there are</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who, idly stretch'd upon the bank of life,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Sleep till the stream runs dry.&mdash;Is't not vexatious,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That frolic nature, as it were, in mockery,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Should in the rough, and lusty mould of manhood,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Encrust a feeble mind!&mdash;Well, upon me</p>
+<p class="i2">   Must rest the load of war.&mdash;Assist me, then,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Ye powers of just revenge! fix deep the memory</p>
+<p class="i2">   Of injured majesty! heat my glowing fancy</p>
+<p class="i2">   With all the glittering pride of high dominion;</p>
+<p class="i2">   That, when we meet the traitors who usurp it,</p>
+<p class="i2">   My breast shall swell with manly indignation,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And spur me on to enterprise.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>La Var.</i> Oh! happy</p>
+<p class="i2">   The knight who wields his sword for such a mistress.</p>
+<p class="i2">   I cannot but be proud! When late, in Normandy,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Your grace demanded succour of my countrymen,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And beauty in distress shone like the sun</p>
+<p class="i2">   Piercing a summer's cloud&mdash;then&mdash;then was I</p>
+<p class="i2">   The honour'd cavalier a royal lady</p>
+<p class="i2">   Chose, from the flower of our nobility,</p>
+<p class="i2">   To right her cause, and punish her oppressors.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Thanks, La Varenne; our cause is bound to you;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page20" name="page20"></a>[20]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   And my particular bond of obligation</p>
+<p class="i2">   Is stamp'd, my lord, with the warm seal of gratitude.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Yours is a high and gallant spirit, lord!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Impatient of inaction, even in peace</p>
+<p class="i2">   It manifests its owner: for, I found you,</p>
+<p class="i2">   In fertile France, (that nurse of courtesy)</p>
+<p class="i2">   Our sex's foremost champion;&mdash;in the tournament</p>
+<p class="i2">   Bearing away the prize, that you might lay it</p>
+<p class="i2">   At some fair lady's feet: thus, in rehearsal,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Training the martial mind to feats of chivalry;</p>
+<p class="i2">   That, when occasion call'd for real service,</p>
+<p class="i2">   It ever was found ready&mdash;witness the troops</p>
+<p class="i2">   You lead to action.&mdash;Say, lords, think you not</p>
+<p class="i2">   That these, our high-bred Normans, mingled with</p>
+<p class="i2">   Our hardy Scottish friends, like fire in flint,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Will, when the iron hand of battle strikes,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Produce such hot and vivid sparks of valour,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That the pale House of York, aghast with fear,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Shall perish in the flame it rashly kindled?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>La Var.</i> No doubt, no doubt!</p>
+<p class="i2">   'Would that the time were come, when our bright swords</p>
+<p class="i2">   Shall end the contest! Since I pledged myself</p>
+<p class="i2">   To fight this cause, delay's as irksome to me,</p>
+<p class="i2">   As to the mettled boy, contracted to</p>
+<p class="i2">   The nymph he burns for, when cold blooded age</p>
+<p class="i2">   Procrastinates the marriage ceremony.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> The time's at hand, my lord; the enemy,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Hearing of succours daily flocking to us,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Is marching, as I gather, towards our camp&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Therefore, good Seneschal, look to our troops:</p>
+<p class="i2">   Keep all our men in readiness;&mdash;ride thro' the ranks,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And cheer the soldiery.&mdash;Come, bustle, bustle.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Oh! we'll not fail, I warrant!&mdash;How now, sirrah?</p>
+<p class="i2">   How came you here?
+                 <span class="dir-i">[<i>To the <span class="sc">Fool</span>.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Willy nilly, madam, as the thief came to the gallows. I am a
+modest guest here, madam, with a poor stomach for fighting, and need
+a deal
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page21" name="page21"></a>[21]</span>
+
+       of pressing before I fall to. When Providence made plumbers, it
+did wisely to leave me out of the number; for, Heaven knows, I take
+but little delight in lead: but here are two who come to traffic in
+that commodity. <span class="dir-i">[<i>Points to <span class="sc">Adeline</span> and <span class="sc">Gregory</span>.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Marg.</i> How mean you, sir? What are these men?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Swelling spirits, madam, with shrunk fortunes, as I take
+it;&mdash;as painful to the owners, as your gouty leg in a tight boot: but
+if a man's word be not taken in the world, he's forced to come to blows
+to keep up a reputation. Poverty without spirit lets in the frost upon
+him worse than a crazy portal at Christmas; so here are a couple of
+warped doors in the foul weather of adversity, madam, who want to be
+listed.
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> I never saw a youth of better promise:</p>
+<p class="i2">   But say, young man, serve you here willingly</p>
+<p class="i2">   In these our wars?
+                 <span class="dir-i">[<i>To <span class="sc">Adeline</span>.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> Yes, madam, if it please you;</p>
+<p class="i2">   And, if my youth should lack ability,</p>
+<p class="i2">   I do beseech you, let my honest will</p>
+<p class="i2">   Atone for its defect:&mdash;yet I will say&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   And yet I would not boast&mdash;that a weak boy</p>
+<p class="i2">   May show you that he is zealous in your service:</p>
+<p class="i2">   For tho' but green in years, alas! misfortune</p>
+<p class="i2">   Has sorely wrung my heart!&mdash;and the proud world,</p>
+<p class="i2">   (I blush for't, while I utter it)&mdash;must know</p>
+<p class="i2">   What 'tis to suffer, ere its thoughtless breast,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Callous in happiness, can warm with feeling</p>
+<p class="i2">   For others in distress.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Poor youth! I pity thee.</p>
+<p class="i2">   And for thy willingness, which I esteem</p>
+<p class="i2">   In friendly working more than if thou brought'st</p>
+<p class="i2">   The strength of Hercules to nerve our battle,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Should the just Heavens smile on our enterprise,</p>
+<p class="i2">   I will not, trust me, youth, forget thee.&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page22" name="page22"></a>[22]</span></p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter a <span class="sc">Messenger</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   Now the news!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Mess.</i> The enemy approaches. On the brow</p>
+<p class="i2">    of the next hill, rising a short mile hence,</p>
+<p class="i2">    Their colours wave.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>La Var.</i> Now then for the issue!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Marg.</i> Ha!&mdash;So near! Who is't that leads their power?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Mess.</i> The Marquis of Montague, so please your Majesty.
+      <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Then he shall find us ready. Now, my lords! </p>
+<p class="i2">   Remember, half our hopes rest on this onset.&mdash; </p>
+<p class="i2">   Some one prepare the King.</p>
+
+<p class="dir-r">[<i>A <span class="sc">Knight</span> enters the Tent.</i></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   If on the border</p>
+<p class="i2">   Of England, here, we cut but boldly through</p>
+<p class="i2">   The troops opposed to intercept our passage,</p>
+<p class="i2">   The afterwork is easy:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Where's my young son!&mdash;then, like a rolling flood,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That once has broke its mound, we'll pour upon</p>
+<p class="i2">   The affrighted country, sweeping all before</p>
+<p class="i2">   Our flood of power, till we penetrate</p>
+<p class="i2">   The very heart on't.&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Go, bring the Prince of Wales!&mdash;Now, gallant soldiers,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Fight lustily to-day, and all the rest</p>
+<p class="i2">   Is sport and holiday.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter an <span class="sc">Officer</span> with the young <span class="sc">Prince</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   My son!&mdash;my boy.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Come to thy mother's bosom! Heaven, who sees</p>
+<p class="i2">   The anxious workings of a parent's heart,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Knows what I feel for thee! Alas! alas!</p>
+<p class="i2">   It grieves me sore to have thee here, my child!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page23" name="page23"></a>[23]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   The rough, unkindly blasts of pitiless war</p>
+<p class="i2">   Suit not thy tender years.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Prince.</i> Why, mother,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Mustn't I be a soldier? And 'tis time</p>
+<p class="i2">   I should begin my exercise&mdash;by and bye</p>
+<p class="i2">   'Twill be too late to learn&mdash;and yet I wish</p>
+<p class="i2">   That I were bigger now, for your sake, mother.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Marg.</i> Why, boy?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Prince.</i> Oh! you know well enough, for all your asking.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Do you think, if I were strong enough to fight,</p>
+<p class="i2">   I'd let these raw-boned fellows plague you so?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> My sweet, brave boy!&mdash;Come, lords, and gentlemen;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Let us go cheerily to work! If woman,</p>
+<p class="i2">   In whose weak, yielding breast, nature puts forth</p>
+<p class="i2">   Her softest composition, can shake off</p>
+<p class="i2">   Her idle fears,&mdash;what may not you perform?</p>
+<p class="i2">   And you shall see me now, steel'd by th' occasion,</p>
+<p class="i2">   So far unsex myself, that tho' grim death</p>
+<p class="i2">   (Breaking the pale of time) shall stride the field,</p>
+<p class="i2">   With slaught'rous step,&mdash;and, prematurely, plunge</p>
+<p class="i2">   His dart in vigorous bosoms, till the earth</p>
+<p class="i2">   Is purple-dyed in gore&mdash;still will I stand</p>
+<p class="i2">   Fix'd as the oak, when tempests sweep the forest.</p>
+<p class="i2">   But, still, one woman's fear&mdash;one touch of nature,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Tugs at my heartstrings&mdash;'tis for thee, my child!</p>
+<p class="i2">   &mdash;Oh! may the white-robed angel,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That watches over baby innocence,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Hear a fond mother's prayer, and in the battle</p>
+<p class="i2">   Cast his protecting mantle round thee!&mdash;On&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Away.
+      <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> I shall never know how to set about the business I am put
+upon. Of all the sports of the field, I never went a man shooting
+before in my life:&mdash;and, yet, when the lady, with the brass bason on
+her head, begins to talk big, there is a warm glow
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page24" name="page24"></a>[24]</span>
+
+                                                   about one, that&mdash;gad!
+I begin to think 'tis courage;&mdash;for I don't know how to describe it;
+and never felt any thing like it before. <span class="dir-i">[<i>Alarm.</i>]</span> Zouns! no it
+e'n't&mdash;if it is, my courage is of a plaguy hot nature; for the very
+sound of a battle has thrown me into a perspiration. Oh! my poor
+mistress's man! Oh! I wish we were at home, and I was comfortably laid
+up in our damp garret, with a fine twinging fit of the rheumatism.
+<span class="dir-i">[<i>Huzza.</i>]</span> Mercy on us!&mdash;here's a whole posse, too, coming the other
+way. I'm in for it! but, if there is such a thing as the protecting
+mantle they talk'd of, I hope 'tis a pure large one; and there'll be
+room enough to lap up me, and my mistress in the tail on't.   <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE IV.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>The Field.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">La Varenne</span>, followed by the <span class="sc">Fool</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>La Var.</i> Death and shame!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Are these the rough, and hardy northern men,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That were to back my Normans? Why, they fly,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Like skimming shadows, o'er a mountain's side,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Chased by the sun.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> True; the heat of the battle is too strong for their cold
+constitutions.
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>La Var.</i> Here, sirrah, take this token to the King:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Go with your utmost speed: entreat him, quickly,</p>
+<p class="i2">   To bring his forces in reserve. This effort</p>
+<p class="i2">   Restores, or kills, our hope.&mdash;Yet I'll fight all out;</p>
+<p class="i2">   I'll shake these pillars of the White-rose House</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page25" name="page25"></a>[25]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   Till the whole building totters, tho' its fall</p>
+<p class="i2">   Should crush me in the ruins.
+      <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit.</i></span> </p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Well said, Sampson&mdash;that's a bold fellow, and I'm on his side.
+Red roses for ever!
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter a <span class="sc">Soldier</span>, of the White Rose Party.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Soldier.</i> Now, fellow, speak! tell me who you fight for.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Marry, will I, very willingly. Pray canst tell who has the best
+of the battle?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Soldier.</i> The White Rose, to be sure: we are the strongest.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Thank you, friend: pass on&mdash;I'm on your side. <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit
+<span class="sc">Soldier</span>.</i>]</span> A low clown, now, might stagger at this shifting;
+but your true, court-bred fool, always cuts the cloth of his conscience
+to the fashion of the times.   <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit.</i></span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Gregory</span> and <span class="sc">Adeline</span>, hastily.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Run, run, madam! follow a blockhead's advice, and run, or
+'tis all over with us.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Whither shall I fly! Fatigue and despair so wear and press
+me, I scarcely know what course to take.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Take to your legs, madam! Get on now, or we shall never be
+able to get off. Come, my dear, good, Lady Adeline! Lord! Lord! only to
+see now, what little resolution people have, that they can't run away
+when there's danger. <span class="dir-i">[<i>Shout.</i>]</span> Plague on your shouting! Since they
+must make soldiers of us&mdash;the light troops against the field, say I!
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Exit, running, followed by <span class="sc">Adeline</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Alarm&mdash;Shout&mdash;and Retreat sounded.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page26" name="page26"></a>[26]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE V.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>Open Country.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter the <span class="sc">Marquis of Montague</span>, <span class="sc">Egbert</span>, and
+other <span class="sc">Lords</span> of the White Rose Party, <span class="sc">Soldiers</span>, &amp;c.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Mont.</i> Cheerly, my valiant friends! the field is ours.</p>
+<p class="i2">   The scatter'd Roses of the Lancasters,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Now deeper tinted, blush a double red,</p>
+<p class="i2">   In shame of this defeat. Oh! this will much</p>
+<p class="i2">   Rejoice King Edward!&mdash;Say, has any friend</p>
+<p class="i2">   Made Henry sure?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Egbert.</i> He is escaped alone, my lord! and Margaret,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who, with her little son, went, hand in hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Hovering about the field, with anxious hope,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Ev'n to the very last; when she perceived</p>
+<p class="i2">   Her lines broke thro'&mdash;her troops almost dispersed,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   She hung upon her boy, in silent anguish,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Till the big tear dropt in his lily neck:</p>
+<p class="i2">   Then, kissing him, as by a sudden impulse,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Which mothers feel, she snatch'd him to her bosom,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And fled with her young treasure in her arms:&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Nature so spoke in't, that our very soldiers</p>
+<p class="i2">   Were soften'd at the scene, and, dull'd with pity,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Grew sluggish in pursuit.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Mont.</i> Well, let them go:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Their cause is, now, become so weak, and sickly,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That, tho' the head exist, to plot fresh mischief,</p>
+<p class="i2">   They will want limbs to execute,&mdash;Their House,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page27" name="page27"></a>[27]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   (Once strong and mighty,) like a a palsied Hercules,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Must, now, lament it has outlived its powers.&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Meantime, as we return, in pride of conquest,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Let us impress the minds of Englishmen</p>
+<p class="i2">   With new-won glories of the House of York.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Strike drum!&mdash;Sound trumpet!&mdash;Let the air be rent,</p>
+<p class="i2">   With high and martial songs of victory.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>
+GRAND CHORUS.
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i6">        <i>Strike!&mdash;the God of Conquest sheds</i></p>
+<p class="i6">        <i>His choicest laurels on our heads:</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Mars, with fury-darting eye,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Smooths his brow, and stalks before us;</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Leading our triumphant chorus,</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Hand in hand, with victory.</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>And hark! the thund'ring drum, and fife's shrill tone,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>With brazen trumpet's clang, proclaim the day our own.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Huzzas.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+    ACT THE SECOND.
+</h2>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE I.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>A Cave, in Hexham Forest; in which <span class="sc">Robbers</span> are discovered, drinking.</i>
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+OLD GLEE, AND OLD WORDS.
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>When Arthur first, in court, began</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>To wear long hanging-sleeves,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>He entertain'd three serving-men,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>And all of them were thieves.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page28" name="page28"></a>[28]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">  <i>The first he was an Irishman,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>The second was a Scot,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>The third he was a Welshman,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>And all were knaves, I wot.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>The Irishman, he loved Usquebaugh,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>The Scot loved ale, called blue-cap;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>The Welshman he loved toasted cheese,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>And made his mouth like a mouse-trap.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Usquebaugh burnt the Irishman,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>The Scot was drown'd in ale;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>The Welshman had like t' have been choak'd with a mouse,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>But he pull'd her out by the tail.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Sung like true and noble boys of plunder! Isn't this
+free-booting spirit, now, better than leading a cowardly life of musty
+regularity? Honesty is a scarce and tender commodity, that perishes
+almost as soon as it appears:&mdash;the rich man is not known to have it,
+for fortune has never put him to the test; and the poor blockhead, that
+boasts on't, dies for hunger in proving it.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> Right; it is but a fever in the blood, that soon kills the
+patient if it be not expelled.&mdash;I had the fever, once.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>4 Rob.</i> And what was your cure for't?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> Starving. Ever while you live, starve your fever:&mdash;when
+honesty is your case, only call in poverty as physician, and the
+disease soon yields to his prescriptions.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Pshaw! plague on your physic? aren't we taking our wine in the
+full vigour of roguery? This it is <span class="dir-i">[<i>Holding the Bottle.</i>]</span> that gives
+courage to poor knaves to knock down rich fools, in the forest;&mdash;just
+as it gives rich fools spirits to sally forth, and break poor knaves'
+heads, in the town. Come, as I'm Lieutenant,
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page29" name="page29"></a>[29]</span>
+
+                                             and our Captain is prowling,
+let's to business:&mdash;read over the list of our yesterday's booties.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> Agreed! but, first, one more round; one health; one general
+health, and then we'll to't.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Here it is then&mdash;here's a short, little, snug, general health,
+that hits most humours; it suits your soldier, your tithe parson, your
+lawyer, your politician, just as well as your robber.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>All.</i> Now for it.      <span class="dir-i">[<i>All rise.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Plunder!         <span class="dir-i">[<i>Drinks.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>All.</i> Plunder!        <span class="dir-i">[<i>All drink.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> And now for the list.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> <span class="dir-i">[Reads.]</span> <i>Hexham Forest, May 14th, 1462. Taken, from a single
+lady, on a pad nag, eleven pounds, four groats, and a portmanteau.&mdash;She
+seemed marvellously frightened, and whispered thanks, privately, for
+her delivery.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> No uncommon case&mdash;she isn't the first single lady who has been
+delivered, and whispered thanks for it in private.
+</p>
+<p>
+2 Rob. <i>From a Scotch laird, on his way from London to Inverness&mdash;by
+Philip Thunder in gloves; the whole provision for his journey, viz. one
+cracked angel, and two sticks of brimstone.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Who has his horse?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> No one; the Scotch laird travelled on foot. <i>From a pair of
+justices of the peace, a foundered mare, a black gelding, two doublets,
+and a hundred marks in gold&mdash;they were tied back to back;&mdash;</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Good! It is but right, that they who bind over so many, should
+at last, be bound over themselves; and a wise thief is ever bound in
+justice to put a foolish justice in binding.
+</p>
+<p>
+2 Rob. <i>Back to back, and hoodwinked&mdash;They were left, lamenting their
+fate, in the forest.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Lament! O villains!&mdash;To be in the commission of the peace, and
+not know that Justice should
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page30" name="page30"></a>[30]</span>
+
+                             always be blind. Marry, a good day! Are there
+any more?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> Only a fat friar, who was half plundered, and saved himself
+by flight.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> The better fortune his. Few fat friars, I fancy, have the luck
+to be saved. What did he yield?
+</p>
+<p>
+2 Rob. <i>The rope from his middle, a bottle of sack from his bosom, and
+a link of hog's puddings, pulled out of his left sleeve.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Gad a mercy, friar! For the sack, and the sausages, they shall
+be shared, merrily, among us; and for the rope,&mdash;hum!&mdash;come, we won't
+think of that, now. <span class="dir-i">[<i>A Horn wound lowly.</i>]</span> Hark! there's our Captain's
+horn!&mdash;'faith, for one who, I suspect is married, he chuses an odd
+signal of approach.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> Nay, though he may be married, he's no milksop; and, I warrant
+him, when he's on duty, and robbing among us, he quite forgets his
+wife, as an honest man should do. He has joined us but a short time,
+yet, egad, he heads us nobly! He'll pluck you an hundred crowns from a
+rich fellow's pocket, with one hand, and throw his share of them into a
+hungry beggar's hat, with the other. But, here he comes.
+</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Gondibert</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>All.</i> Hail, noble Captain!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> How now, my bold and rugged companions! What has been done in
+my absence?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Oh, sir, a deal of business&mdash;We have been washing down old
+scores, and getting vigour for new. We have had a cup for every breach
+of the law we have committed. Marry, sir, ours is a rare cellar, to
+stand such a soaking.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Now then, to a business of greater import. I have been lurking
+round the camp, here, on the skirts of the forest. The parties have
+met, and a hot battle ensued. It was a long time fought with such
+stubborn courage, that, as I stood observing it, the
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page31" name="page31"></a>[31]</span>
+
+                                                      spirit of war,
+pent up within me, had well nigh burst my breast.&mdash;Twenty times, I was
+at the point of breaking from my shelter, and joining combat. But I am
+pledged to you, my fellows;&mdash;that thought restrained me.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> O, noble Captain!&mdash;but who has conquered?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Ay, there it is:&mdash;'sdeath and fury, my blood boiled to see it!
+The sleek, upstart rascals, cut through the ranks as if&mdash;oh! a plague
+on their well feeding!&mdash;We had carried it else, all the world to
+nothing!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> We! why what is it to us who has the day? Do but tell us who.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> I had forgot. The Lancasters are defeated, their soldiers
+routed, and many of their leaders dispersed about the country. Some,
+no doubt, are in the forest. Usurping war never glutted on a richer
+banquet.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Why, it seems to have been a pretty feast; and, the best on't
+is, now 'tis over, we shall come in for the picking of the bones.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> It may be so. You all, I know, will expect a rich booty; and
+they whom we shall meet will, probably, from the unsettled nature of
+the times, bear their whole wealth about their persons:&mdash;but they are
+brave, and have been oppressed;&mdash;disappointment, therefore, and their
+situation, may cause them to fight in their defence, like heros.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> Nay, an they fight like devils, they'll find we can match them
+in courage. Put me to any proof you please, and they shall soon find me
+a man.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Then, prove it, friend, by pity for the unfortunate. Believe
+me, comrades, he has little better to boast than a brute, who cannot
+temper his courage with feeling. And, now, as our expedition is at
+hand, let each of you observe my orders. If there be any whose
+appearance denotes a more than common birth, treat
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page32" name="page32"></a>[32]</span>
+
+                                                   him with due respect,
+and conduct him to my cave. As to the plunder (which our wild life
+obliges us to exact from the way-worn passenger) on this occasion,
+pr'ythee, good comrades, take sparingly, and use your prisoners
+generously.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>4 Rob.</i> <span class="dir-i">[<i>Half aside, and muttering.</i>]</span> 'Sblood! this captain of ours
+had better take to the pulpit than the road. If he must preach so
+plaguily about generosity, he might, at least, pay for it out of his
+own pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Who's he that dares to mutter? Come forth, thou wretch! Thus
+do I punish mutiny, and presumption.   <span class="dir-i">[<i>Pulls him down, and holds his
+Sword over him.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>4 Rob.</i> Oh, mercy! good Captain, mercy!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Well, take it, though thou deservest none; and learn from
+this, thou poor, base reptile! how to show mercy to others whom fortune
+places in thy power. Now, friends, all to your posts. I shall go forth
+alone. You have your orders, and I know you will obey them strictly.
+The night steals on us apace; and the angry clouds, threatning a storm,
+add to the awful gloom of the forest. Away, boys! and be steady.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> As rocks, Captain. Come, bullies! all to your duties. Keep
+your ears, and lose your tongues. Listen, in silence, for the tread of
+a passenger; and, when he's near enough, spring upon him, like so many
+cats at a mouse hole.
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+CATCH.
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i14">                <i>"Buz, quoth the blue-fly."</i></p>
+<p class="i14">                <i>Lurk o'er the green-sword;</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                    <i>Mum let us be:&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i14">                <i>Lurk, and mum's the word,</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                    <i>For you and me!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Thro' the brake, thro' the wood, prowl, prowl around!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>We watch the footsteps, with ears to the ground.</i></p>
+<p class="i28">                              <i>Ears to the ground.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Exeunt <span class="sc">Robbers</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page33" name="page33"></a>[33]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Here is another moment snatch'd&mdash;a short one&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   To commune with myself:&mdash;yet, wherefore, think?</p>
+<p class="i2">   Why court consuming sorrow to my bosom,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Which, like the nurs'ling pelican, drinks the blood</p>
+<p class="i2">   Of its fond cherisher?</p>
+<p class="i2">   Why rather should not turbulence of action</p>
+<p class="i2">   Shake off the tax of tyrannous remembrance?</p>
+<p class="i2">   'Tis not the mere, and actual suffering,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That bends the noble spirit to the earth,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And cracks the proud heart's chord:&mdash;The prisoner,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Whose feverish limbs, for many a long, long year,</p>
+<p class="i2">   No summer breeze has fann'd, might still be patient,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Did not remembrance, yoked with cursed comparison,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Enter his dungeon walls, and conjure up</p>
+<p class="i2">   The shadows of past joys;&mdash;then, thought on thought,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Like molten lead, run thro' the wretch's brain,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And burning fancy mads him.&mdash;Hence, Remembrance!</p>
+<p class="i2">   How baneful art thou to me, when this course</p>
+<p class="i2">   Must be thy antidote! I'll thro' the forest,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And seek these wanderers.&mdash;Fell necessity,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And the rude band that I am link'd withal,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Demand that I should prey on them:&mdash;yet, still,</p>
+<p class="i2">   My heart leans to them, tho' their fatal cause</p>
+<p class="i2">   Has shorn me to the quick:&mdash;for them I fled</p>
+<p class="i2">   My home, my dear loved&mdash;&mdash;Oh, peace, Gondibert!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Touch not that string!&mdash;If I must think, I'll think</p>
+<p class="i2">   That Heaven one day may smile.
+      <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page34" name="page34"></a>[34]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE II.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>Part of the Forest.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Adeline</span> and <span class="sc">Gregory</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Gently, good madam; gently, for the love of corns! Where is
+it you mean to go?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Even where chance shall carry us, Gregory.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> 'Faith, madam, and if chance would carry us, it would be
+doing us a great favour; for we have walked far enough, in all
+conscience.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Then, here, my good fellow, we must rest ourselves.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Here! what in the wood? and night coming on!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Good faith even here!&mdash;here, for necessity demands it, we
+must pass the night: and, in the morning, the ring-dove, cooing to its
+mate, will wake us to our journey homeward. This is a retreat, were but
+the mind at ease, a king might well repose in.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> It must be King Nebuchadnezzar then: if we haven't some of
+his grass-eating qualities, we shall find ourselves badly off for a
+supper. 'Tis ten to one, too, but we may wander here for a week,
+without finding our way out again.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Oh! this world! this world! I am weary on't! 'Would I had
+been some villager!&mdash;'twere well, now, to be a shepherd's boy&mdash;he has
+no cares&mdash;but while his sheep browse on the mountain's side, with
+vacant mind&mdash;happy in ignorance&mdash;he sinks to sleep, o'ercanopied with
+heaven, and makes the turf his pillow.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page35" name="page35"></a>[35]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Yes, but he has plaguy damp sheets, for all that. I'd
+exchange all the turf and sky in the county, for a good warm barn and a
+blanket; and as for the cooing doves, I would not give a crack'd tester
+for a forest full of them; unless I could see some of their claws stuck
+up through the holes of a brown piecrust.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Fie! Gregory; be content, be content. Think that we are
+happy in this forest, in having thus escaped the enemy's fire, and be
+grateful in the change.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Why, we are out of the fire, to be sure; but, make the best
+on't we can, we are still in the frying-pan. And starving is one of
+those blessings for which people are not very apt to be thankful. But
+we have escaped killing; so I'll e'en be content, as long as there is
+comfort in comparison. I stumbled over a fat trumpeter in the field,
+stript and plunder'd, with his skin full of bullets. Well, I am
+thankful yet&mdash;mine is a marvellous happy lot, to be better than a dead
+trumpeter!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Truce now, Gregory; and consider how we can best dispose
+ourselves here, till the morning.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Nay, there's no need of much consideration; there's little
+distinction of apartments here, madam: we shall both sleep on the
+ground floor&mdash;and our lodgings will be pure and airy, I warrant them.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Peace, fool! nor let thy grosser mind, half fears, half
+levity, thus trifle with my feelings! I have borne me up against
+affliction, till my o'ercharged bosom can contain no longer.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> O the father! look if my poor dear lady be not a
+weeping!&mdash;why, madam&mdash;Lady Adeline&mdash;dear madam! I am but a fool as you
+say; but I'm as honest and as faithful as the greatest knave of them
+all:&mdash;and haven't I sighed, sobbed, fasted, fought, and run away, to
+show you that I would stand by you to the last? and haven't I&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page36" name="page36"></a>[36]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Pr'ythee, no more, Gregory! bear with, my pettishness&mdash;for,
+now and then, the tongue of disappointment will needs let fall some of
+the acid drops which misery sprinkles the heart withal.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Now must I play the comforter. Why, lord, madam, I think,
+when a body comes to be used to it a little, this forest must be a
+sweet, dingy, retired, gloomy, pleasant sort of a place;&mdash;besides,
+what's one night? sleeping bears it out&mdash;and I'll warrant us we'll find
+such snug delicious beds of dry leaves, that&mdash; <span class="dir-i">[<i>Hard shower</i>.]</span> 'Sbud!
+no!&mdash;I lie&mdash;it rains like all the dogs and cats in the kingdom&mdash;there
+won't be a dry twig left, large enough to shelter a cock-chafer&mdash;we
+shall both be sopped here, like two toasts in a tankard&mdash; <span class="dir-i">[<i>Thunder.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Why, why should fortune sport with a weak woman thus! why,
+fickle goddess, wanton as boys in giddy cruelty, torture a silly fly
+before you kill it?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> 'Faith, madam, for that matter, I am but a blue-bottle of
+fortune's myself; and, though sorrow is dry, they say, this is a sort
+of soaking it does not care to be moistened with. If it would rain good
+barrels of ale, now, sorrow would not so much mind being out in the
+storm. <span class="dir-i">[<i>Thunder again.</i>]</span> No; sorrow would be disappointed there too:
+this rumbling is enough to flatten the finest beer shower, a man would
+wish to take a whet in.&mdash;Lud! lud! madam! let's get out ou't, if
+there's a hollow tree to be found. <span class="dir-i">[<i>Thunder.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> The thunder rolls awful on the ear, and strikes the soul
+with terror. The plunderer, too, perhaps catching the sulphurous flash,
+explores his wretched prey, and stalks to midnight murder.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Mercy on us, madam, don't talk of that!&mdash;now I think on't,
+if we were to pick and chuse, for a twelvemonth, we couldn't have
+pitched upon a more convenient place to be knocked down in. Shelter!
+dear madam! shelter.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page37" name="page37"></a>[37]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Is it thus you stand by me, Gregory? I, at least, hoped you
+had valour enough to&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i><span class="sc">Robbers</span> appear behind, and slowly advance.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Exactly enough; but not a morsel to spare. So we'll e'en
+look out for a place of safety. Not that I'm afraid though.&mdash;Stand by
+you?&mdash;egad, if half a dozen, now, of stout, raw-boned fellows were to
+dare to molest you, I would make no more of whipping this <span class="dir-i">[<i>Drawing his
+Sword.</i>]</span> through their dirty lungs, than I would of&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i><span class="sc">Robbers</span> surround <span class="sc">Adeline</span> and <span class="sc">Gregory</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Stand!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> O mercy! mercy! I'm as dead a man as ever I was in my life.
+<span class="dir-i">[<i>Drops his Sword, and falls.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Heavens! when will my miseries end! Speak, friends, what
+would you have?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> What you have.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> If it is our lives you seek, they are so care worn, that in
+resigning them, we part with that which is scarce worth the keeping.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> 'Tis very true indeed. Pray don't take them,
+gentlemen;&mdash;they'll do you no kind of good.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> Peace!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Marry, a well favoured boy. Say, youth, whence came you, and
+whither bound?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> I scarce know whither; but I came far inland; sent by my
+father to the wars; his sword the sole inheritance his age can leave
+me. This man, a faithful servant of our cottage, in simple love has
+followed me.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Well, youth; be of good cheer&mdash;He, who has little, has little
+to lose; and a soldier's pocket is seldom much lighter for emptying.
+Come; you must both with us&mdash;bring them to our captain's cave.
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Exeunt <span class="sc">First</span> and <span class="sc">Fourth Robber</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Oh lud; oh lud! Dear, good, sweet faced gentlemen!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Rob.</i> Peace, dolt! fear not; our captain's honourable!
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page38" name="page38"></a>[38]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Nay, that he must be by his company&mdash;but sweet, civil,
+honest gentlemen! <span class="dir-i">[<i>The <span class="sc">Robbers</span> press them on.</i>]</span> Oh confound
+these underground apartments! We shall never get out of them alive.
+Lord! lord! how hard it is upon a man to be forced to walk to his own
+burying!
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Exeunt <span class="sc">Adeline</span> and <span class="sc">Gregory</span>, hurried off by
+the <span class="sc">Robbers</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE III.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>Another Part of the Forest.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Margaret</span>, with the Young <span class="sc">Prince Edward</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Why, that's well done, my boy!&mdash;so&mdash;cheerly, cheerly!</p>
+<p class="i2">   See, too, the angry storm's subsiding:&mdash;what,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thou canst not be a-weary, Ned?&mdash;I know,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thou'rt more a man.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Prince.</i> Sooth, now, my legs ache sadly!</p>
+<p class="i2">   My heart is light and fresh though; and it mocks</p>
+<p class="i2">   My legs for aching. I would I had your legs,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And you my heart.&mdash;Your heart, I fear me, mother,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Is heavier far than mine.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Marg.</i> Dost think so, Ned?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Prince.</i> Ay, and I know so too:&mdash;for I am in it.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Marg.</i> My dear, wronged child!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Prince.</i> Pr'ythee now, mother, do not grieve for me;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  I warrant I shall live to be a king, yet.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Marg.</i> Alas! poor monkey! thou hast little cause</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page39" name="page39"></a>[39]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   To be in love with greatness: thou hast felt </p>
+<p class="i2">   Its miseries full early.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Prince.</i> Then, you know </p>
+<p class="i2">   I've all its good to come.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> May Heaven grant it!</p>
+<p class="i2">   For thou dost promise nobly, boy. This forest</p>
+<p class="i2">   Will screen us from the hatred of our enemies.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Here, till the rage of war has ceased around us,</p>
+<p class="i2">   I will watch o'er thee, Ned; here guard thy life;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thy life! the hope, the care, the joy of mine!</p>
+<p class="i2">   And when thy harrass'd limbs have gain'd their pliancy,</p>
+<p class="i2">   We will resume our task: for I must lead thee</p>
+<p class="i2">   A painful walk, across Northumberland,</p>
+<p class="i2">   As far as Berwick, boy; where we may meet,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Again, our Scottish friends. What sayest thou Ned,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Shouldst joy to see thy father there?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Prince.</i> Ay, mother;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   And, though we know he has escaped the traitors,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Were we but sure to find him there, I could</p>
+<p class="i2">   Set out directly.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Rest a day or two:</p>
+<p class="i2">   For hadst thou strength, the danger that surrounds us</p>
+<p class="i2">   Prevents our venturing.&mdash;Come!&mdash;on a little&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   We will go look some moss-grown cavern out,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And there thou shalt repose thee, sweet.&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Gondibert</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   Come, boy! come, take my hand&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i><span class="sc">Gondibert</span> approaches, with his Sword drawn.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Gondi.</i> Advance no further.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Marg.</i> Ha! Who art thou, that comest, with murderous look,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Here, in the dusky bosom of the wood,</p>
+<p class="i2">  To intercept our passage?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Gondi.</i> One of those</p>
+<p class="i2">  Who, stript of all, by an oppressing world,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Now make reprisals: if my looks be dark,</p>
+<p class="i2">  They best explain my purpose.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page40" name="page40"></a>[40]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Prince.</i> Fly! fly! mother!</p>
+<p class="i2">   The villain else, will kill us.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Let us pass.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thou know'st us not; else would there so much terror</p>
+<p class="i2">   Still strike thee of our person, that&mdash;no matter.</p>
+<p class="i2">   What cause hast thou to stay me?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Biting want;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   An oath sworn to my fellows;&mdash;disappointment;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Despair.&mdash;I came not here to parley, lady;&mdash;&mdash;quickly,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Yield what you have, or go where I command.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Command! base slave! reduced to this!&mdash;Command,</p>
+<p class="i2">   From thee? thou worm!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Making majestically past him, with the <span class="sc">Prince</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Gondi.</i> Nay, nay; you fly not, lady.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Holds his Sword, over them.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Marg.</i> Oh, Heaven! my boy! strike not, on thy allegiance!</p>
+<p class="i2">  Save him, I charge thee, fellow! Save my son;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  The son of thy anointed king.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Gondi.</i> My king!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Drops his Sword at their Feet.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Marg.</i> Ay, look, and tremble, slave.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Gondi.</i> I do indeed!&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  And tho' my sword has never been unsheathed,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Since fate has link'd me to a lawless band,</p>
+<p class="i2">  But to intimidate, not harm the passenger,</p>
+<p class="i2">  I rather would have plunged its naked point</p>
+<p class="i2">  In mine own bosom, than have raised it thus.&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  I do beseech your pardon:&mdash;and, if aught,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Wherein I may be capable of service,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Can make atonement, you shall find me ready,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Be it at what blind and perilous risk soever:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  For I have heard the fate of this day's battle;</p>
+<p class="i2">  And should a guide, whose dark, and haggard fortune,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Wraps him in humble seeming, be thought worthy,</p>
+<p class="i2">  In this the time's extremity, to direct</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page41" name="page41"></a>[41]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   Your wand'ring steps, my zeal will prove itself</p>
+<p class="i2">   Warm, and unshaken, madam.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Thou makest amends:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   And the strong tide of evils, rushing in,</p>
+<p class="i2">   With rapid force, upon us, well might urge me,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Like sinking men who grasp at idle straws,</p>
+<p class="i2">   To accept thy service. Yet, thou may'st be false,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And lead my boy to his destruction.&mdash;Say,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   What sureties, fellow, have I of thy truth?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Think on the awe-inspiring air that marks</p>
+<p class="i2">   A royal brow, and makes the trait'rous soul</p>
+<p class="i2">   Shrink at its own suggestion.&mdash;And, when care,</p>
+<p class="i2">   With envious weight, invades the diadem,</p>
+<p class="i2">   To aim an injury then&mdash;'twere monstrous baseness!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Oh! long, and ever, ever be there seen</p>
+<p class="i2">   A heaven-gifted charm round Majesty,</p>
+<p class="i2">   To draw confusion on the wretch, who, watching</p>
+<p class="i2">   A transient cloud, that dims its lustre, dares</p>
+<p class="i2">   Think on his sovereign with irreverence!</p>
+<p class="i2">   But, more to bind me, madam, to your confidence,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Know, I have been your soldier; and have fought</p>
+<p class="i2">   In this proud cause&mdash;some, haply, may remember me&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   When fortune's sunshine smiled upon it.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Now&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   For greatness ever has its summer friends,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who, at the fall and winter of its glory,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Fly off like swallows&mdash;thou'lt betray me.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Never.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Wrong me not in your thoughts, beseech you, madam;</p>
+<p class="i2">   For I will serve you truly;&mdash;truly guard</p>
+<p class="i2">   Your royal son.&mdash;He is but half a subject,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who, in the zeal, and duty, for his monarch,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Feels not his breast glow for his prince's welfare.</p>
+<p class="i2">   And, in the moment when the time's rough trial</p>
+<p class="i2">   Calls, loudly, on my sworn allegiance,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And summons it to proof, if I abandon either,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page42" name="page42"></a>[42]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   May Heaven, when most I stand in need of mercy,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Abandon me!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Prince.</i> Let us go with him, mother.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> I know each turn and foot-path of the forest:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Can lead you thro' such blind and secret windings,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That will perplex pursuers, till they wander,</p>
+<p class="i2">   As in a labyrinth.&mdash;West of this a little,</p>
+<p class="i2">   There stand some straggling cottages, that form</p>
+<p class="i2">   A silent village; and whose humble tops,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Deep shadow'd by the dark o'erhanging wood,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Escape the notice of the traveller.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thither, so please you, I'll conduct you, madam.</p>
+<p class="i2">   I have a friend,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Lowly but trusty, who shall tend upon you;</p>
+<p class="i2">   While I will scout the country round, to gain</p>
+<p class="i2">   Intelligence of your divided party.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> <span class="dir-i">[<i>Taking up the Sword which <span class="sc">Gondibert</span> dropped.</i>]</span></p>
+<p class="i2">   Then, take my boy!&mdash;for I will trust thee, fellow.</p>
+<p class="i2">   I must perforce;&mdash;but mark;&mdash;for still I doubt:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   If for a moment&mdash;mark me, fellow, well!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thou givest me cause to think thy damn'd intent</p>
+<p class="i2">   Aims at my dear child's life, that very moment,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Tho' that the next should be my last, I'll plunge</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thy weapon to thy heart.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Fear not.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Lead on.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Exeunt</i>:&mdash;<i><span class="sc">Gondibert</span> leading the <span class="sc">Prince</span>, and
+<span class="sc">Margaret</span> following with the Sword over Gondibert's Head.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page43" name="page43"></a>[43]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+    ACT III.
+</h2>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE I.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>A Village, on the Skirts of the Forest.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Fool</span> and a <span class="sc">Villager</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> Tell me, good fellow, now, I pr'ythee&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> But wilt thou lend an ear to my tale?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> That will I; all the ears I am worth.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Then need not I tell the story:&mdash;for, if thou lend'st all thy
+ears, then thou'lt have none left to hear it.&mdash;Wast ever in a battle,
+old boy?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> No, truly!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Then thou art a dead man.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> What, for not being in a battle!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Yea, marry,&mdash;by the very first rapier that comes in thy
+way;&mdash;for no man can live by the sword but a soldier;&mdash;and of soldiers
+there are three degrees; and three only.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> As how?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> As thus:&mdash;Your hot fighter&mdash;your cool fighter&mdash;and your
+fighter-shy.&mdash;The last degree makes a wondrous figure, in many
+muster-rolls.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> Of which last you make one.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> In some degree.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> And it was that made you run from the battle.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Right; running is your only surety. Bully Achilles, the great
+warrior of old, thought otherwise;
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page44" name="page44"></a>[44]</span>
+
+                                   and he was vulnerable only in the
+heel:&mdash;now, my heels always insure me from being wounded.&mdash;Dost know
+why Heaven makes one leg of a man stouter than the other?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> No.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> That he may be able to put the best leg foremost, when there's
+occasion.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> And you had occasion enough, last night.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Truly, had I; and thus came I to your cottage; where I slept on
+a bare board all night.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> Ah! Heaven knows my lodging is poor enough! but such as it is,
+you are welcome.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Nay, I quarrel not with the lodging; I only complain of the
+board&mdash;and now wouldst thou know my story.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> I would willingly hear of the battle that was lost.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Then pr'ythee, ask of those that found it: but, come, I'll e'en
+tell thee how it was.&mdash;&mdash;Thou hast a wife?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> Yes, forsooth;&mdash;that was my old dame you saw at home.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Keep her there; for nature plainly intended her for a homely
+woman&mdash;Didst ever quarrel with her before marriage?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> Never.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Afterwards, a little?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> Um!&mdash;Why, to say the truth, my poor dame has a fine flourish
+with a cudgel; but people will needs fall out, now and then, when once
+they come together.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> That's the very way we lost the battle:&mdash;for had the two
+parties never met, depend on't, one had never cudgel'd the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Vil.</i> Mass! thou art a rare fellow in the field!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Very rare;&mdash;for I never come there but when I can't help it.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page45" name="page45"></a>[45]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+SONG.&mdash;FOOL.
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>To arms, to arms, when Captains cry,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>With a heigho! the trumpets blow&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>To legs, to legs, brave boys, say I!</i></p>
+<p class="i14">                <i>Heigho;</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>I needs must go.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Arrows swift begin to fly,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>With a heigho! Twang goes the bow&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>And soldiers tumble down and die:&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i14">                <i>Heigho!</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>I'll not do so.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Whizzing by come balls of lead;</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>With a heigho! thump they go.&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Tall men grow shorter by the head;</i></p>
+<p class="i14">                <i>Heigho!</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>I'd rather grow.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>In time of trouble I'm away;</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>With a heigho!&mdash;ill winds blow;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>But always ready at pay day;</i></p>
+<p class="i14">                <i>Heigho!</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Great folks do so.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter another <span class="sc">Villager</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>1 Vil.</i> Now, goodman Hobs, whence come you?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Vil.</i> There is a great lord come in, from the routed party, who has
+taken shelter in our village, since break of day. One of your great
+friends, good sir.   <span class="dir-i">[<i>To the <span class="sc">Fool</span>.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Didst see him! how look'd he?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>2 Vil.</i> I tended him, some quarter of an hour:&mdash;troth, he seem'd
+wondrous weary.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page46" name="page46"></a>[46]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Of thy company.&mdash;Now could I be weary too, and find in my heart
+to be dull:&mdash;but here come females; and, were a man's head emptier than
+a spendthrift's purse, they will ever bring something out on't. Hence
+comes it, that your dull husband's head is improved by your lively
+wife:&mdash;if she can bring out nothing else, why she brings out horns.
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Villagers</span>, Male and Female.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now, good folk, whither go you?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>3 Vil.</i> Truly, sir, this is our season for making of hay; and here am
+I, sir, with the rest of our village, going about it.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Fool.</i> Now might I, were it not for disgracing the army, turn mower
+among these clowns;&mdash;and why not? Soldiers are but cutters down of
+flesh, and flesh is grass, all the world over. I'll e'en out, this
+morning, and do execution in the field.&mdash;Come, lads and maidens! One
+roundelay, and we'll to't!
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+SONG AND CHORUS OF VILLAGERS.
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  1 Wom. <i>Drifted snow no more is seen;</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Blust'ring Winter passes by;</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Merry Spring comes clad in green,</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>While woodlarks pour their melody.</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                <i>I hear him! hark!</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                <i>The merry lark,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Calls us to the new mown hay,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Piping to our roundelay.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  2 Vil. <i>When the golden sun appears,</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>On the mountain's surly brow;</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>When his jolly beams he rears,</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Darting joy&mdash;behold them now!&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                <i>Then, then, oh, hark!&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                <i>The merry lark</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page47" name="page47"></a>[47]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i8">          <i>Calls us to the new mown hay,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Piping to our roundelay.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  3 Vil. <i>When the village boy, to field,</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Tramps it with the buxom lass,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Fain she would not seem to yield,</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Yet gets her tumble on the grass:</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                <i>Then, then, oh, hark!</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                <i>The merry lark,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>While they tumble in the hay,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Pipes alone his roundelay.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  4 Vil. <i>What are honours? What's a court?</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Calm content is worth them all:&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Our honour lies in cudgel sport;</i></p>
+<p class="i10">            <i>Our brightest court a green-sward ball.</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                <i>But then&mdash;oh hark!</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                <i>The merry lark,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Calls us to the new mown hay,</i></p>
+<p class="i8">          <i>Piping to our roundelay.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[Exeunt.
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE II.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>An old fashioned Apartment, in <span class="sc">Barton's</span> House, in
+  the Village. Rusty Arms, and other Military Paraphernalia
+  hanging up, in different Parts; &amp;c.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i><span class="sc">La Varenne</span> and <span class="sc">Barton</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Barton.</i> Nay, sir, thank not me:</p>
+<p class="i2">   I am no trader, I, in empty forms;</p>
+<p class="i2">   In neat congees, and kickshaw compliments;</p>
+<p class="i2">   In your,&mdash;"Dear sirs," and "Sir, you make me blush;"&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   I'm for plain speaking; plain and blunt; besides,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page48" name="page48"></a>[48]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   I've been a soldier:&mdash;and, I take it, sir,</p>
+<p class="i2">   You, who are still in service, are aware</p>
+<p class="i2">   That blushing seldom troubles the profession.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>La Var.</i> Still, friend, I thank thee.&mdash;Thou hast shelter'd me,</p>
+<p class="i2">   At a hard trying moment, when the buffets</p>
+<p class="i2">   Of tainting fortune rather would persuade</p>
+<p class="i2">   Friends to shrink back, than serve me.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Barton.</i> 'Faith, good sir,</p>
+<p class="i2">   I know not how you have been buffetted:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   But this I know,&mdash;at least I think I know it&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   If there's a soldier, in the world's wide army,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who will not, in the moment of distress,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Stretch forth his hand to save a falling comrade,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Why, then, I think, that he has little chance</p>
+<p class="i2">   Of being found in Heaven's muster-roll.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>La Var.</i> I like thy plainness well.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Barton.</i> Nay, sir, my plainness</p>
+<p class="i2">   Is such as Nature gave me: and would men</p>
+<p class="i2">   Leave Nature to herself, good faith, her work</p>
+<p class="i2">   Is pretty equal;&mdash;but we will be garnishing;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Until the heart, like to a beauty's face,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Which she ne'er lets alone till she has spoil'd it,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Is so befritter'd round, with worldly nonsense,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That we can scarcely trace sweet Nature's outlines.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>La Var.</i> Who of our party, pr'ythee, since the battle</p>
+<p class="i2">   Have shelter'd here among the villagers?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Canst tell their names?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Barton.</i> Ay, marry, can I, sir.</p>
+<p class="i2">   But can and will are birds of diff'rent feather.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Can is a swan, that bottles up its music,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And never lets it out till death is near;</p>
+<p class="i2">   But will's a piping bullfinch, that does ever</p>
+<p class="i2">   Whistle forth every note it has been taught,</p>
+<p class="i2">   To any fool that bids it. Now, sir, mark;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Whoever's here, would fain be private here;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Whoever's here, depend on't, tell I can;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page49" name="page49"></a>[49]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">  Whoever's here, depend on't, tell I will not.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>La Var.</i> Why, this is over-caution!&mdash;would not they</p>
+<p class="i2">  Rejoice as readily at seeing me,</p>
+<p class="i2">  As I at seeing them?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Barton.</i> I know not that:</p>
+<p class="i2">  I am no whisper-monger;&mdash;and if, once,</p>
+<p class="i2">  A secret be entrusted to my charge,</p>
+<p class="i2">  I keep it, as an honest agent should,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Lock'd in my heart's old strong box; and I'll answer</p>
+<p class="i2">  No draught from any but my principal.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>La Var.</i> If now thou hast a charge, old trusty, I,</p>
+<p class="i2">  (Believe me), am next heir to't.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Barton.</i> Very like.</p>
+<p class="i2">  Yet, sir, if heirs had liberty to draw</p>
+<p class="i2">  For what is not their own, till time shall give it them,</p>
+<p class="i2">  I fear the stock would soon be dry;&mdash;and, then,</p>
+<p class="i2">  The principals might have some cause to grumble.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>La Var.</i> Thou art the strangest fellow! What's thy name?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Barton.</i> Barton;&mdash;that I may trust you with.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>La Var.</i> No more?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Barton.</i> No, not a pin's point more.  Pshaw! here comes one,</p>
+<p class="i2">  To let all out. Children, and fools, and women,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Will still be babbling.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Prince Edward</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Prince.</i> Oh! my lord, is't you!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>La Var.</i> Oh, my young sir! how my heart springs to meet you!</p>
+<p class="i2">  Where is your royal mother? is she safe?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Prince.</i> She's in this house, my lord.&mdash;Last night,</p>
+<p class="i2">  This honest man received us:&mdash;and another,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  His friend&mdash;not quite so honest as he might be&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  Did bring us hither;&mdash;'twas a rogue, my lord;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  Yet no rogue neither;&mdash;and, to say the sooth,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page50" name="page50"></a>[50]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">  The rogue, my lord, 's a very honest man.</p>
+<p class="i2">  Lord, how this meeting will rejoice my mother!</p>
+<p class="i2">  And she was wishing, now, within this minute,</p>
+<p class="i2">  To see the Seneschal of Normandy.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Barton.</i> So!</p>
+<p class="i2">  This is the Seneschal of Normandy!</p>
+<p class="i2">  Here is another secret.&mdash;Plague take secrets!</p>
+<p class="i2">  This is in token of their liking me;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  Just as an over hospitable host,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Out of pure kindness to his visitor,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Crams the poor bursting soul with meat he loaths.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>La Var.</i> I cannot blame thee, friend;&mdash;thou knew'st me not:</p>
+<p class="i2">  And, thou hast, now, a jewel in thy care,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Well worth thy utmost caution in preserving.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Barton.</i> I need not to be told the value on't.</p>
+<p class="i2">  I have been sworn his mother's subject, sir; and since</p>
+<p class="i2">  My poor house has been honour'd with her presence,</p>
+<p class="i2">  The tender scenes, I've been a witness to,</p>
+<p class="i2">  'Twixt her, and this young bud of royalty,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Would make me traitor to humanity,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Could I betray her. There is a rapturous something,</p>
+<p class="i2">  That plays about an English subject's heart,</p>
+<p class="i2">  When female majesty is seen employ'd</p>
+<p class="i2">  In these sweet duties of domestic love,</p>
+<p class="i2">  Which all can feel,&mdash;but very few describe!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>La Var.</i> Oh! how thou warm'st me, fellow, with thy zeal!</p>
+<p class="i2">  Come, my young lord!&mdash;now lead us to her majesty.
+     <span class="dir-i">[<i>To <span class="sc">Barton</span>.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Barton.</i> Why, as things are, I'll lead you where she is:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  But were they otherwise, and you had not</p>
+<p class="i2">  Discover'd where she is&mdash;you'll pardon me&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">  But I had led you, sir, a pretty dance</p>
+<p class="i2">  Ere I had led you to her. Come, I'll conduct you.
+    <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exeunt.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page51" name="page51"></a>[51]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE III.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>Another Apartment, in <span class="sc">Barton</span>'s House.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Gondibert</span> and 1st <span class="sc">Robber</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Away all night! What then? Am not I their leader? Do they
+begin to doubt me? Am not I, as it were, wedded to the party?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> Very true, noble captain: and we have treated you as a wife
+would a kind husband:&mdash;but when a husband is out all night&mdash;why&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Well, sir;&mdash;what then?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> Marry, then, the wife is apt to grumble a little; that's all.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Go to;&mdash;I had reason. What's the news?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> The news is, we have taken some stragglers, in the forest.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Are they of note?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> 'Faith, we have some of all qualities;&mdash;gentle and simple
+mixed:&mdash;we had no time to stand upon the picking:&mdash;they're all penn'd
+up in the back cavern;&mdash;and you must e'en take 'em like a score of
+sheep&mdash;fat and lean together. But, there is a beardless youth, follow'd
+by a cowardly serving man, who presses hard to see you.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> What would he?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> 'Faith, sir, he would be a noble fellow. I take it he has a
+great soul, too large for the laws;&mdash;he has questioned me plentifully
+concerning you.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Concerning me?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> Yes; he inquired if you were married; how long you had been with
+us; your age; your stature;
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page52" name="page52"></a>[52]</span>
+
+                            nay, he was particular enough to ask what
+sort of a nose stood on your face.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Wherefore these questions?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> Troth, I think he would like well to serve in our band; for
+he seems to have a marvellous nice notion of honour. He took up your
+dagger, of curious workmanship, that lies on your table, in the cave,
+and did so study the dudgeon on't!&mdash;Marry, the boy knows how to handle
+a weapon, I'll warrant him.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Where have you bestowed him?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> Why, he was so importunate, that I have brought him, and his
+man, hither along.&mdash;The man, I feared, might babble: so, I've entrusted
+him to your friend Barton, here; and he, finding he has been a butler,
+has locked him in the cellarage.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Conduct the youth hither.
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Exit <span class="sc">Robber</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   Then why should I repine? since there are others,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who, in the early spring, and May of life,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Behold the promised blossoms of their hope</p>
+<p class="i2">   Nipt in the very bud. Here comes the youth;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   And bears a goodly outside;&mdash;yet 'tis a slender bark,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That Providence ne'er framed for tossing much</p>
+<p class="i2">   In a rough sea of troubles.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Robber</span> with <span class="sc">Adeline</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> Here, youth; this is our captain. Cheer up now, and speak
+boldly. You need not fear.&mdash;A raw youth, captain, but a mettled one,
+I'll warrant him.&mdash;A word with you.   <span class="dir-i">[<i>Takes <span class="sc">Gondibert</span> apart.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> It is, it is my lord!&mdash;Oh Heaven! my heart!&mdash;to find him
+thus, too!&mdash;Yet, to find him any how is transport.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Rob.</i> I shall look to it.&mdash;You would be private now, I take it.&mdash;Now,
+youth, plead, cleverly, to get admitted among us, and your fortune's
+made. Be but a short time with us, and it will go hard, indeed,
+
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page53" name="page53"></a>[53]</span>
+
+                                                               if all
+your cares, in this world, are not shortly at an end.      <span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Now to your business, youth.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> 'Tis brief.&mdash;I have been sorely wrung, sir, by the keen
+pressure of mishap.&mdash;I once had friends: they have left me. One whom
+I thought a special one&mdash;a noble gentleman&mdash;who pledged himself, by
+all the ties that are most binding to a man, to guard my uninstructed
+youth&mdash;even he, to whom my soul looked up; whom, I might say, I loved
+as with a woman's tenderness,&mdash;even he has, now, deserted me.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Then he acted basely.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> I hope not so, sir.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Trust me, I think he did, youth; for there is an open native
+sincerity that marks thy countenance, which I scarce believe could give
+just cause to a steady friend to leave thee.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Now, by my holy dame, he had none to suspect me. Yet, from
+the pressure of the time,&mdash;some trying chance&mdash;but, I am wandering.
+This is my suit to you.&mdash;If you should find me fit to be entrusted with
+the secrets of your party, I could wish to be enrolled among you.
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Hast thou well weigh'd the hardships which our life</p>
+<p class="i2">   Constrains us to? Our perils; nightly watchings</p>
+<p class="i2">   Our fears, disquietudes; our jealousies,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Even of ourselves?&mdash;which keep the lawless mind</p>
+<p class="i2">   For ever on the stretch, and turn our sleep,</p>
+<p class="i2">   To frightful slumbers;&mdash;where imagination</p>
+<p class="i2">   Discovers, to the dull and feverous sense,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Mis-shapen forms, ghastly and horrible;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   And mixes, in the chaos of the brain,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Terrors, half real, half unnatural;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Till nature, struggling under the oppression,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Rouses the sleeping wretch,&mdash;who starts, and wipes</p>
+<p class="i2">   The chilly drop from off his clay-cold temples;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page54" name="page54"></a>[54]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   And fain would call for help, yet dares not utter,</p>
+<p class="i2">   But trembles on his couch, silent and horror struck!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> Attempt not to dissuade me; I am fix'd.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Yet there is one soft tie, which, when I think</p>
+<p class="i2">   The cruel edge of keen necessity</p>
+<p class="i2">   Has cut asunder, almost bursts my heart.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> What is it, youth?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> That, which from my youth,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   For I have scarcely yet told one and twenty,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Might, haply, not be thought;&mdash;yet so it is;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Know, then, that I am married.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Married, didst say?</p>
+<p class="i2">   And dost thou love&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> Oh! witness for me, Heaven!</p>
+<p class="i2">   The pure and holy warmth that fills my bosom.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Nay then, my heart bleeds for thee! for thou mightst</p>
+<p class="i2">   As easily attempt to walk unmov'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">   With all the liquid fires which Ętna vomits</p>
+<p class="i2">   Pour'd in thy breast, as here to hope for happiness.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Oh! what does the heart feel, that's rudely torn</p>
+<p class="i2">   From the dear object of its wedded love!</p>
+<p class="i2">   And, still, to add a spur to gall'd reflection,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That very object, whom the time's necessity</p>
+<p class="i2">   Mads you to part with, witless of the cause,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Arraigns your conduct.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> And have you felt this!
+      <span class="dir-i">[<i>With emotion.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> I tell thee wretched youth&mdash;fie! thou unman'st me.&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Pr'ythee, return, young man!&mdash;I have a feeling,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   A fellow feeling for thee;&mdash;if thou hop'st</p>
+<p class="i2">   For gentle peace to be an inmate with thee,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Turn thy steps homeward;&mdash;link not with our band.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> Wherefore should I return? return to witness</p>
+<p class="i2">   The bitter load of misery, which circumstance</p>
+<p class="i2">   Has brought upon my house? My infant children&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> And hast thou children then?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page55" name="page55"></a>[55]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   Whose innocence has oft beguil'd thy hours;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who have look'd smiling up into thy face,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Till the sweet tear of rapturous content</p>
+<p class="i2">   Has trickled down thy cheek?&mdash;Thou trying for tune!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Mark out the frozen breast of apathy,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And tho' 'twere triple cased in adamant,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Throw but this poisonous shaft of malice at it,</p>
+<p class="i2">   'Twill pierce it thro'and thro'.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> An if I thought 'twere so?&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Hear me, young man:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thou wring'st a secret from me, which, till now,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Was borne in silence here; while, vulture-like,</p>
+<p class="i2">   It preys upon my vitals.&mdash;I am married:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   I have a wife&mdash;and one whom kindly nature</p>
+<p class="i2">   Form'd in her lavish mood:&mdash;Oh! her gentle love</p>
+<p class="i2">   Beam'd through her eyes, whene'er she turn'd them on me,</p>
+<p class="i2">   With such a mild and virtuous innocence,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That it might charm stern murder!&mdash;and yet I</p>
+<p class="i2">   Have wounded, villain like, her peace. Even I,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   In whom her very soul was wrapt&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Turn'd coward with the time, have basely left her.</p>
+<p class="i2">   But I am punish'd for't:&mdash;day, night,&mdash;asleep,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Awake,&mdash;still, or in action,&mdash;bleeding fancy</p>
+<p class="i2">   Pictures my wife, sitting in patient anguish;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Pale; mild in sufferance; mingling meek forgiveness</p>
+<p class="i2">   With bitter agony;&mdash;blessing him who wrongs her;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   While my poor children, my deserted little ones,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Hang on her knees, and watch the silent drops</p>
+<p class="i2">   Steal down her grief-worn face!&mdash;Yea, dost thou weep?</p>
+<p class="i2">   Shape thy course homeward then; for pangs like mine,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Would so convulse thee, youth, that, like an engine,</p>
+<p class="i2">   'Twould wrench thy tender nature from its frame,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And pluck life with it.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page56" name="page56"></a>[56]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> Oh! my dear, loved lord!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Here cease those pangs;&mdash;here, in the ecstacy of joy,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Behold your Adeline, now rushing to the arms</p>
+<p class="i2">   Of a beloved husband.
+      <span class="dir-i">[<i>Running into his Arms.</i></span></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Merciful Heaven!</p>
+<p class="i2">   My Adeline! And hast thou!&mdash;Oh, my heart!</p>
+<p class="i2">   This sudden conflict!&mdash;thus let me clasp thee to it;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Ne'er to part more, till pangs of death shall shake us.</p>
+<p class="i2">   What hast thou suffer'd, sweet!&mdash;for me to cause&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   And are our children&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> Well, and in safety.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> And, to leave them too!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> Nay, pr'ythee, now, no more of this:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Blot from thy memory all former sorrow:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Or, if we think on't, be it at some moment,</p>
+<p class="i2">   When calm content smiles round our happy board.</p>
+<p class="i2">   And, trust me, now, I think our storms are over:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   For, on my way, I learn, the House of York</p>
+<p class="i2">   Has now sent forth free pardon to all those,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who, long attach'd to the Lancastrian party,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Have not engaged in their late enterprise.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Blessed chance,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That now constrain'd me to inaction! Adeline!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Once more to hold thee! to return to happiness&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   To see our children!&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">First Robber</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   How now! What's the matter?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> Marry, the matter is, with the oaf in the cellar; the fool
+shakes as though he were in an ague; we may e'en turn him adrift any
+how, for he will no how turn to our profit. He's cowardly and poor;
+he can neither rob, nor be robbed.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page57" name="page57"></a>[57]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Oh! 'tis my man: I pray you conduct him hither.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>1 Rob.</i> I'll trundle him in; but you will make nothing of him. I have
+been trying to talk him into service, and make him fit for our party;
+but there are some manner of men 'tis impossible to work any good upon.
+<span class="dir-i">[<i>Exit.</i></span>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Adeline.</i> Poor simpleton! 'tis Gregory, who, in pure zeal, and honest
+attachment, has followed me.
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Gregory</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Mercy on us! this is the great cock captain of the whole
+brood of banditti! 'Tis all over! and I have been shut up, these two
+hours, like a calf for killing. Lord! lord! if calves did but know the
+reason for their being stalled, as I have been, they'd so fall away
+with fear, that veal would not be worth the taking to market.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Why, how now, man?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Oh lud! I am a poor fellow, sir; that shall be a longtime
+getting rich, and would fain not die till I am so. Take my life, sir,
+and you take all;&mdash;I carry it about me, as a snail does his
+house:&mdash;and, truly, sir, you'll find that time has a mortgage upon it
+of forty-two years, and the furniture, of late, is so worn with ill
+usage, that the remainder of the lease is not worth your
+acceptance:&mdash;if, sweet, noble, sir, you would but&mdash;&mdash;
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>During this Speech, <span class="sc">Gregory</span> has been gradually raising his Eyes
+from the Ground, till he fixes them on <span class="sc">Gondibert's</span> Face.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Eh!&mdash;Oh!&mdash;O, the father!&mdash;No!&mdash;Yes&mdash;Oh lud&mdash;Oh lord!
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gondi.</i> Why, dost not know me, Gregory?
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Huzza!&mdash;He's found! <span class="dir-i">[<i>Capering.</i>]</span> Dear my lord, I never was
+happier since I was born, at the sight of you.
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page58" name="page58"></a>[58]</span></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>  <i>Gondi.</i> Trust me, I think so, Gregory. Come, love;</p>
+<p class="i2">  Let's in for calmer conference. Follow, good Gregory.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Exeunt <span class="sc">Adeline</span> and <span class="sc">Gondibert</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Gregory.</i> Here's a simple change in a man's fortune! Now might I, when
+I say 'tis he&mdash;were it not as plain 'tis he as a nose is a nose&mdash;swear
+that my eyes were putting a lie in my mouth, in very spite of my
+teeth.&mdash;Oh, the quiet, comfortable days that I shall see again! Mercy
+on me! 'Tis enough to make a coward tremble, to think on the battles my
+valour has been put to. Nothing, now again, but old fare, old rubbing
+of spoons, and a cup of old sherry, behind the old pantry door, to
+comfort my nose, in a cold frosty morning.
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+SONG.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="center">
+"Moderation and Alteration."
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>In an old quiet parish, on a brown healthy old moor,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Stands my master's old gate, whose old threshold is wore</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>With many an old friend, who for liquor would roar,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>And I uncork'd the old sherry&mdash;that I had tasted before.</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                      <i>But it was in Moderation, &amp;c.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>There I had an old quiet pantry, of the servants was the head;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>And kept the key of the old cellar, and old plate, and chipp'd the brown bread.</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>If an old barrel was missing, it was easily said,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>That the very old beer was one morning found dead:&mdash;</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                      <i>But it was in Moderation, &amp;c.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>But, we had a good old custom, when the week did begin,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>To show, by my accounts, I had not wasted a pin;&mdash;</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page59" name="page59"></a>[59]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">  <i>For my lord, tho' he was bountiful, thought waste was a sin;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>And never would lay out much, but when my lady lay-in.</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                      <i>But still it was Moderation.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Good lack! good lack! how once Dame Fortune did frown!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>I left my old quiet pantry, to trudge from town to town;</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Worn quite off my legs, in search of thumps, bobs, and cracks on the crown,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>I was fairly knock'd up, and very near foully knock'd down.</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                      <i>But now there's an Alteration,</i></p>
+<p class="i18">                      <i>Oh! it's a wonderful Alteration!</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-r">
+[<i>Exit.</i>
+</p>
+
+<h3>
+SCENE IV.
+</h3>
+
+<p class="scene">
+<i>The Village.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Margaret</span>, <span class="sc">La Varenne</span>, and <span class="sc">Prince</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> The northern coast beset!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>La Var.</i> Close watch'd with enemies:&mdash;'twere too bold a risk,</p>
+<p class="i2">   That way to seek the sea: then bend your course</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thro' Cumberland, so please you.&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   At Solway Frith, we have warm friends, to favour</p>
+<p class="i2">   Your embarkation&mdash;Sailing, thence to Galloway,</p>
+<p class="i2">   With all convenient speed, we march towards Edinburgh;</p>
+<p class="i2">   And thitherward, I learn, the king has fled:</p>
+<p class="i2">   Where, in the bosom of the Scottish court,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page60" name="page60"></a>[60]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   You may in safety sojourn, till the succour</p>
+<p class="i2">   Which noble Burgundy, warm in beauty's cause,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Once more, no doubt, will lend, again shall plume</p>
+<p class="i2">   The wing of majesty.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Then, let sharp injury</p>
+<p class="i2">   Subdue base minds alone; its scalding spirit,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Pour'd in a royal breast, will quicken vengeance.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Why, worthy Seneschal, there's hope in't still!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Holds it not likely,</p>
+<p class="i2">   When our dispersed nobility shall hear,</p>
+<p class="i2">   We are again on foot, our royal standard</p>
+<p class="i2">   Will be so flock'd with friends!&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Here comes the fellow, whom I told you of.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Gondibert</span>, <span class="sc">Adeline</span>, and <span class="sc">Gregory</span>, behind.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   Now, good friend, the news?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Thus, as my spies inform me, madam:&mdash;Montague</p>
+<p class="i2">   Has march'd right north; towards Dunstaburgh; hoping</p>
+<p class="i2">   There to surprise your Majesty&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Let the fool on.&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   This favours our intended march, through Cumberland.</p>
+<p class="i2">   What else?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> No more; but that some twenty,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Or thereabout, of your dispersed soldiers</p>
+<p class="i2">   Are fall'n into my power. I have ventured,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Finding, that, here, the village is attach'd,</p>
+<p class="i2">   In honest bonds of loyalty, to direct</p>
+<p class="i2">   My men to march them hither: if your course</p>
+<p class="i2">   Should need a secret guard, these few will serve,</p>
+<p class="i2">   When more were dangerous.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> Oh, true, true fellow!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Believe me, honest friend, of all the bolts,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page61" name="page61"></a>[61]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2">   Which spiteful fortune hurls against my crown,</p>
+<p class="i2">   None strike so deeply, as my poor ability</p>
+<p class="i2">   Now to requite thy faith.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> The subject, madam,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Who, in his poor endeavour, can relieve</p>
+<p class="i2">   A sovereign from distress, they, who are loyal,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Will pour down blessings on him; that requital</p>
+<p class="i2">   Threefold o'erpays his services. But here,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Heaven has, in pity of me, now pour'd balm</p>
+<p class="i2">   Upon my bleeding sufferings.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> What, my young warrior!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Adeline.</i> A weak one, madam;&mdash;and a woman too.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Your pardon, madam, if, to seek a husband,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Happy has been my search&mdash;more than the cause,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Altho' my heart is warm in't&mdash;brought me hither.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Gondi.</i> Your guard approaches, madam, and the villagers,</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Knights</span> and <span class="sc">Soldiers</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">   Anxious, in zeal, to see their royal mistress,</p>
+<p class="i2">   In throngs have follow'd.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Enter <span class="sc">Villagers</span>, <span class="sc">Male</span> and <span class="sc">Female</span>, on each Side.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>   <i>Marg.</i> This is a cheering sight!</p>
+<p class="i2">   Soon may this warmth be general; and may Henry</p>
+<p class="i2">   Bask in its genial sunshine.&mdash;England, awhile, farewell!</p>
+<p class="i2">   And if in future times&mdash;no doubt 'twill be so&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">   Thy King unite his people to his confidence,</p>
+<p class="i2">   And his commanding virtues, mild, yet kingly,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Shall draw the breath of rapturous loyalty</p>
+<p class="i2">   From the gilt palace to the clay-built cottage,</p>
+<p class="i2">   Then will thy realm, indeed, be enviable.</p>
+<p class="i2">   Strike!&mdash;&mdash;Then on.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page62" name="page62"></a>[62]</span></p>
+
+<p class="dir-c">
+<i>Procession of <span class="sc">Soldiers</span>, and Grand Chorus of <span class="sc">Villagers</span>.</i>
+</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2">  <i>Sea-girt England, fertile land!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Plenty, from her richest stores,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Ever, with benignant hand,</i></p>
+<p class="i2">  <i>Her treasure on thy bosom pours.</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>England! to thyself be true;</i></p>
+<p class="i6">      <i>When thy realm is truly blest,</i></p>
+<p class="i4">    <i>'Tis when a monarch's love for you</i></p>
+<p class="i6">      <i>Is by your loyalty confest.</i></p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>
+THE END.
+</h3>
+
+
+<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle of Hexham;, by George Colman
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Battle of Hexham;
+       or, Days of Old; a play in three acts
+
+Author: George Colman
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2011 [EBook #36515]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven desJardins, David Garcia and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+  BATTLE OF HEXHAM
+  MARGARET--STRIKE NOT ON THY ALLEGIANCE
+  ACT II. SCENE III
+  PAINTED BY HOWARD PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN & CO ENGRAVD BY STOW]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; OR, DAYS OF OLD;
+
+A PLAY, IN THREE ACTS;
+
+BY GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER.
+
+AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET.
+
+PRINTED UNDER THE AUTHORITY OF THE MANAGERS FROM THE PROMPT BOOK.
+
+WITH REMARKS BY MRS. INCHBALD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  LONDON:
+  PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+
+  WILLIAM SAVAGE, PRINTER,
+  LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+REMARKS.
+
+
+Mr. Colman acquaints his readers, in his Preface to this play, dated
+1808, that it was written near twenty years ago: then, stating, as an
+apology to his jocose accusers, this reason for having made Shakespeare
+the model for his dialogue--that plays, which exhibit incidents of
+former ages, should have the language of the characters conform to
+their dress--he adds--"To copy Shakspeare, in the general _tournure_ of
+his phraseology, is a mechanical task, which may be accomplished with
+a common share of industry and observation:--and this I have attempted
+(for the reason assigned); endeavouring, at the same time, to avoid a
+servile quaintness, which would disgust. To aspire to a resemblance of
+his boundless powers, would have been the labour of a coxcomb;--and had
+I been vain enough to have essayed it, I should have placed myself in a
+situation similar to that of the strolling actor, who advertised his
+performance of a part"--"In imitation of the inimitable Garrick."
+
+"The Battle of Hexham" has been one of the author's most popular works;
+and has, perhaps, to charge its present loss of influence with the
+public, to those historical events of modern times, which have steeled
+the heart against all minor scenes of woe, and deprived of their
+wonted interest the sorrows of Queen Margaret and her child.
+
+There is a short, but well known narrative, written by one Clery,
+an humble valet de chambre--which, for pathetic claims, in behalf of
+suffering majesty and infant royalty, may bid defiance to all that
+history has before recorded, or poets feigned, to melt the soul to
+sympathy.
+
+Nor can anxiety be now awakened in consequence of a past battle at
+Hexham, between a few thousand men, merely disputing which of two
+cousins should be their king, when, at this present period, hundreds
+of thousands yearly combat and die, in a cause of far less doubtful
+importance.
+
+The loyal speeches of Gondibert, in this play, his zeal in the cause of
+his sovereign, every reader will admire--yet one difficulty occurs to
+abate this admiration--Did Gondibert know who his sovereign _was_? This
+question seems to be involved in that same degree of darkness, in which
+half the destructive battles which ever took place have been fought.
+
+The adverse parties at Hexham had each a sovereign. Edward the Fourth
+was the lawful king of the York adherents, as Henry the Sixth was of
+those of Lancaster; and Edward had at least birthright on his side,
+being the lineal descendant of the elder brother of Henry the Fourth,
+and, as such, next heir to Richard the Second, setting aside the
+usurper.--But, possibly, the degraded state of Henry the Sixth was
+the strongest tie, which bound this valiant soldier to his supposed
+allegiance;--for there are politicians so compassionate towards the
+afflicted, or so envious of the prosperous, they will not cordially
+acknowledge a monarch until he is dethroned.--Even the people of
+England never would allow the Bourbon family to be the lawful kings
+of France, till within these last fifteen years[1].
+
+The youthful reader will delight in the conjugal ardour of Adeline;
+whilst the prudent matron will conceive--that, had she loved her
+blooming offspring, as she professes, it had been better to have
+remained at home for their protection, than to have wandered in camps
+and forests, dressed in vile disguise, solely for the joy of seeing
+their father.--But prudence is a virtue, which would destroy the best
+heroine that ever was invented. A mediocrity of discretion even,
+dispersed among certain characters of a drama, might cast a gloom over
+the whole fable, divest every incident of its power to surprise, take
+all point from the catastrophe, and, finally, draw upon the entire
+composition, the just sentence of condemnation.
+
+[Footnote 1: It was since the French Revolution that the crown of
+England relinquished its title and claim to the kingdom of France.]
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE                _Mr. Gardner._
+  DUKE OF SOMERSET                   _Mr. Johnson._
+  A NOBLEMAN                         _Mr. Iliffe._
+  LA VARENNE                         _Mr. Williamson._
+  PRINCE OF WALES                    _Miss Gaudry._
+  GONDIBERT                          _Mr. Bannister, jun._
+  BARTON                             _Mr. Aickin._
+  GREGORY GUBBINS                    _Mr. Edwin._
+  FOOL                               _Mr. R. Palmer._
+  CORPORAL                           _Mr. Baddeley._
+  DRUMMER                            _Mr. Moss._
+  FIFER                              _Mr. Barret._
+  FIRST ROBBER                       _Mr. Bannister, sen._
+  SECOND DITTO                       _Mr. Davies._
+  THIRD DITTO                        _Mr. Chapman._
+  FOURTH DITTO                       _Mr. Rees._
+  OTHER ROBBERS                      _Mr. Mathews_, _Mr. Chambers_, _&c._
+  FIRST MALE VILLAGER                _Mr. Burton._
+  SECOND DITTO                       _Mr. Painter._
+  FIRST FEMALE SINGING VILLAGER      _Mrs. Bannister._
+  SECOND DITTO                       _Mrs. Iliffe._
+  MARGARET                           _Mrs. S. Kemble._
+  ADELINE                            _Mrs. Goodall._
+
+  _Various ROBBERS, SOLDIERS, VILLAGERS, &c. &c._
+
+
+_SCENE--Northumberland._
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+ACT THE FIRST.
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+    _An open Country, near Hexham, in Northumberland; with a distant
+    View of HENRY THE SIXTH'S Camp. Time Day-break._
+
+
+_Enter ADELINE, in Man's Habit and Accoutrements._
+
+_Adeline._ Heigho! Six dark and weary miles, and not yet at the camp.
+How tediously affliction paces!--Come, Gregory! come on. Why, how you
+lag behind!--Poor simple soul! what cares has he to weigh him down? Oh,
+yes,--he has served me from my cradle; and his plain honest heart feels
+for his mistress's fallen fortunes, and is heavy.--Come, my good
+fellow, come!
+
+_Enter GREGORY._
+
+_Gregory._ Mercy on us, how my poor legs do ache!
+
+_Adeline._ What, with only six miles this morning?--Fie!
+
+_Gregory._ Six!--sixteen, if we've gone an inch; my feet are cut
+to pieces. A man may as well do penance, with pease in his shoes,
+as trudge over these confounded roads in Northumberland. I used to
+wonder, when we were at home, in the south, where it is as smooth as
+a bowling-green, what the labourers did with all the loose stones they
+carried off the highways; but now, I find, they come and shoot their
+rubbish in the northern counties. I wish we had never come into them,
+with all my heart!
+
+_Adeline._ Then, you are weary of my service--you wish you had not
+followed me.
+
+_Gregory._ Who I? Heaven forbid!--I'd follow you to the end of the
+world:--nay, for that matter, I believe I shall follow you there; for
+I have tramped after you a deuced long way, without knowing where we
+are going. But I'd live, ay, and die for you too.
+
+_Adeline._ Well, well; we must to the wars, my good fellow.
+
+_Gregory._ The wars! O lud! that's taking me at my word with a
+vengeance! I never could abide fighting--there's something so plaguy
+quarrelsome in it.
+
+_Adeline._ Then you had best return. We now, Gregory, are approaching
+King Henry's camp.
+
+_Gregory._ Are we? Oh dear, oh dear! Pray, then, let us wheel about as
+fast as we can.
+
+_Adeline._ Don't you observe the light breaking through the tents
+yonder?
+
+_Gregory._ Mercy on me! they are tents, sure enough! Come, madam, let's
+be going, if you please.
+
+_Adeline._ Why, whither should I go, poor simpleton? My home is
+wretchedness. The wars I seek have made it so; they have robbed me of
+my husband; comfort now is lost to me. Oh! Gondibert, too faithful to
+a weak cause, our ruin is involved with our betters!
+
+_Gregory._ Oh, rot the cause, say I! Plague on the House of Lancaster!
+it has been many a noble gentleman's undoing. The white and red roses
+have caused more eyes to water in England, than if we had planted
+the whole island with onions. Such a coil kept up with their two
+houses!--one's so old and t'other's so old!--they ought both to be
+pulled down, for a couple of nuisances to the nation.
+
+_Adeline._ Peace! peace, man!--half such a word, spoken at random,
+might cost your life. The times, Gregory, are dangerous.
+
+_Gregory._ Very true, indeed, madam. Death has no modesty in him
+now-a-days; he stares every body full in the face. I wish we had kept
+quiet at home, out of his way. Who knows but my master, Lord Gondibert,
+might have returned to us, unexpectedly; I'm sure he left us
+unexpectedly enough; for the deuce a bit of any notice did he give us
+of his going.
+
+_Adeline._ Ay, Gregory; was it not unkind? And yet I will not call him
+so--the times are cruel--not my husband.--His affection had too much
+thought in it to change. His regular love, corrected by the steady
+vigour of his mind, knew not the turbulence of boyish raptures; but,
+like a sober river in its banks, flowed with a sweet and equal current.
+Oh! it was such a placid stream of tenderness!--How long is it since
+your master left us, Gregory?
+
+_Gregory._ Six months come to-morrow, madam. I caught a violent cold
+the very same day: it has settled in my eyes, I believe, for they have
+been troublesome to me ever since. Ah! I shall never forget that morning;
+when the spies of the House of York, that's got upon the throne,
+surrounded him for being an old friend to the Lancasters. Egad, he laid
+about him like a lion!--Out whips his broad-sword; whack he comes me
+one over the sconce; pat he goes me another on the cheek; and, after
+putting them all out of breath, about he wheels his horse, and we have
+never seen nor heard of him since.
+
+_Adeline._ And, from that day to this, I have in vain cherished hopes
+of his return.--Fearful, no doubt, of being surprised, he keeps
+concealed.--Thus is he torn from me--torn from his children--poor
+tender blossoms! too weak to be exposed to the rude tempest of the
+times, and leaves their innocence unsheltered!
+
+_Gregory._ Yes, and mine among the rest. But what is it you mean to
+do, madam?
+
+_Adeline._ To seek him in the camp. The Lancasters again are making
+head, here, in the north. If he have had an opportunity of joining
+them, 'tis more than probable he is in their army. Thither will
+we;--and for this purpose have I doff'd my woman's habit; leaving my
+house to the care of a trusty friend: and, thus accoutred, have led
+you, Gregory, the faithful follower of my sorrows, a weary journey half
+over England.
+
+_Gregory._ Weary! oh dear, no--not at all--I could turn about again
+directly, and walk back, brisker by half than I came.
+
+_Adeline._ What, man, afraid! Come, come; we run but little risk.
+Example, too, will animate us. The very air of the camp, Gregory, will
+brace your courage to the true pitch.
+
+_Gregory._ That may be, madam; and yet, for a bracing air, people are
+apt to die in it, sooner than in any other place.
+
+_Adeline._ Pshaw! pr'ythee, man, put but a confident look on the
+matter, and we shall do, I warrant. A bluff and blustering outside
+often conceals a chicken heart. Mine aches, I am sure! but I will hide
+my grief under the veil of airy carelessness.--Down, sorrow! I'll be
+all bustle, like the occasion. Come, Gregory! Mark your mistress, man,
+and learn: see how she'll play the pert young soldier.
+
+
+SONG.--ADELINE.
+
+  _The mincing step, the woman's air,_
+    _The tender sigh, the soften'd note,_
+  _Poor Adeline must now forswear,_
+    _Nor think upon the petticoat._
+
+  _Since love has led me to the field,_
+    _The soldier's phrase I'll learn by rote;_
+  _I'll talk of drums, of sword and shield,_
+    _And quite forget my petticoat._
+
+  _When the loud cannon's roar I hear,_
+    _And trumpets bray with brazen throat,_
+  _With blust'ring, then, I'll hide my fear,_
+    _Lest I betray my petticoat._
+
+  _But ah! how slight the terrors past,_
+    _If he on whom I fondly dote,_
+  _Is to my arms restored at last;--_
+    _Then--give me back my petticoat!_
+
+
+[Exit ADELINE.
+
+_Gregory._ Well, if I must go, I must. I cannot help following my poor
+Lady Adeline--affection has led many a bolder man by the nose than I.
+I wonder, though, how your bold fellows find themselves just before
+they're going to fight. I wonder if they have any uncomfortable sort
+of sticking in the throat, and a queer kind of a cold tickling feel in
+some part of the flesh. Ah! Gregory, Gregory Gubbins! your peaceable
+qualities will never do for a camp. I never could bear gunpowder, since
+I got fuddled at the fair, and the boys tied crackers, under Dobbin's
+tail, in the Market Place.
+
+
+SONG.--GREGORY GUBBINS.
+
+  _What's a valiant Hero?_
+    _Beat the drum,_
+    _And he'll come:--_
+  _Row de dow dero!_
+
+  _Nothing does he fear, O!_
+    _Risks his life,_
+    _While the fife--_
+  _Twittle, twittle twero--_
+  _Row de dow de dow,_
+  _Twittle, twittle twero._
+
+  _Havock splits his ear, O!_
+    _Groans abound,_
+    _Trumpets sound,_
+  _Ran tan tan ta tero--_
+  _Twittle, twittle twero._
+
+  _Then the scars he'll bear, O!_
+    _Muskets roar,_
+    _Small shot pour--_
+  _Rat tat tat to tero--_
+  _Pop, pop, pop,_
+  _Twittle, twittle twero._
+
+  _What brings up the rear, O?_
+    _In comes Death;_
+    _Stops his breath;--_
+  _Good bye, valiant Hero!--_
+  _Twittle twittle, rat a tat,_
+  _Pop, pop, pop, row de dow, &c. &c._                           [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+    HENRY THE SIXTH'S _Camp, at Hexham._
+
+_Enter a DRUMMER and a FIFER._
+
+_Drum._ Morrow to you, Master Tooting--a merry day-breaking to your
+worship.
+
+_Fifer._ A sad head-breaking, I fancy. Plaguy troublesome times,
+brother! Buffetted, by the opposite party, out of one place, and now
+waiting till they come to buffet us out of another. Whenever they do
+come, let me tell you, a man will scarce have time to get up from his
+straw bed, before he's laid down again by a long shot of the enemy. We
+shall be popp'd at like a parcel of partridges, rising from stubble.
+
+_Drum._ Pshaw! plague, what signifies taking matters to heart? Luck's
+all. War's a chance, you know. If one day's bad, another's better.
+What matters an odd drubbing, or so? A soldier should never grumble.
+
+_Fifer._ Why, zouns! flesh and blood, nor any thing that belongs to a
+camp, can't help it. Do, now, only give your drum a good beating, and
+mind what a damn'd noise it will make.--Not grumble, when we take so
+many hard knocks?
+
+_Drum._ No, to be sure; else how should we be able to return them?
+
+_Fifer._ Ay, there stands the case; we never can return them. Others
+can have a blow, and give a blow; but as for me, and yourself, and Kit
+Crackcheeks, the trumpeter; 'sbud, they may thump us from morning to
+night, and all the revenge we have, is--Toot-a-too, rub-a-dub, and
+tantararara.
+
+_Drum._ O fie! learn to know our consequence better, brother, I beseech
+you. My word for it, we are the heros that do all the execution. Who
+but we keep up the vigour of an engagement, and the courage of the
+soldiers? Fear, brother, is, for all the world, like your bite of a
+tarantula; there's no conquering its effects without music. We are of
+as much consequence to an army, as wind to a windmill: the wings can't
+be put in motion without us.
+
+_Fifer._ Marry, that's true: and if two armies ever meet without coming
+to blows, nothing but our absence can be the occasion of it. The only
+way to restore harmony is, to take away our music.
+
+_Enter a CORPORAL and SOLDIERS._
+
+_Soldier._ Come along, my boys; now for the news!
+
+_Corp._ Silence!
+
+_Soldiers._ Ay, ay--Silence.
+
+_Corp._ Hold your peace, there, and listen to what I'm going to inform
+you--Hem!--Who am I?
+
+_All Soldiers._ Our corporal! Alick Puff;--our corporal.
+
+_Corp._ O ho! am I so?--then obey orders, you riotous rascals, and keep
+your tongues between the few teeth the civil war has been civil enough
+to leave you. What! is it for a parcel of pitiful privates to gabble
+before their superior officer! know yourselves for a set of ignorant
+boobies, as you are--and do not forget that I am at the head of you.
+
+_Drum._ But, pr'ythee, good Master Corporal, what news?
+
+_Corp._ Ay, there it is; good Master Corporal, and sweet Master Corporal,
+the news? who is to tell you, but I? and what do I ever get by it?
+
+_Fifer._ Come, come, you shall have our thanks with all our hearts;--we
+promise you that.
+
+_Soldier._ Ay, ay, that you shall--now for it!
+
+_Corp._ Then!--You remember your promise?
+
+_All Soldiers._ Yes, yes, we do.
+
+_Corp._ Why, then, you'll all have your throats cut before to-morrow
+morning.
+
+_All._ How!
+
+_Drum._ Pshaw! it can't be!
+
+_Corp._ See there, now! just as I expected.--After all I have imparted,
+merely for your pleasure and satisfaction, not a man among you has the
+gratitude to say, thank you, Corporal, for your kind information.
+
+_Drum._ But, is the enemy at hand?
+
+_Corp._ No matter, Mum! only when the business is over with you, and
+you are all stiff in the field, do me the credit to say, afterwards, I
+was the first that told you it would happen. I, Alexander Puff, corporal
+to King Henry the Sixth, (Heaven bless him!) in his majesty's camp, at
+Hexham, in Northumberland.
+
+_Fifer._ Well, though they do muster strong, we may make Edward's party
+skip for all that; if we have but justice on our side.
+
+_Corp._ Well said, Master Wiseacre!--Justice! No, no! Might overcomes
+right, now a days. Bully Rebellion has almost frightened Justice out of
+her wits; and, when she ventures to weigh causes, her hand trembles so
+confoundedly, that half the merits tumble out of the scale.
+
+_Fifer._ But, still, I say----
+
+_Corp._ Say no more--but take care of yourself in the battle--that's
+all.--'Sblood! if the enemy were to find your little, dry, taper
+carcase, pink'd full of round holes, they'd mistake you for your own
+fife. But, remember this, my lads. Edward of York has again shoved King
+Henry from his possessions, and squatted his own usurping, beggarly
+gallygaskins, in the clean seat of sovereignty; and here are we brave
+fellows, at Hexham, come to place him on the stool of repentance. And
+there's our king at the head of us--and there's his noble consort, the
+sword and buckler, Queen Margaret--and there's the Lord Seneschal of
+Normandy--and the Lord Duke of Somerset--and the Lord knows who!--The
+enemy is at hand, with a thumping power; so up, courage, and to
+loggerheads we go for it.--Huzza! for the Red Roses, and the House
+of Lancaster.
+
+_All._ Huzza! huzza! huzza!
+
+
+SONG.--CORPORAL.
+
+  _My tight fellow soldiers, prepare for your foes;_
+  _Fight away, for the cause of the jolly Red Rose;_
+  _Never flinch while you live; should you meet with your death,_
+  _There's no fear that you'll run--you'll be quite out of breath._
+  _Then be true to your colours, the Lancasters chose,_
+  _And the laurel entwine with the jolly Red Rose._
+
+  Chorus. _Then be true, &c._
+
+  _He who follows for honour the drum and the fife,_
+  _May perhaps have the luck to get honour for life;_
+  _And he who, for money, makes fighting his trade,_
+  _Let him now face the foe, he'll be handsomely paid._
+
+  _Then be true, &c._
+
+  _The fight fairly done, my brave boys of the blade,_
+  _How we'll talk, o'er our cups, of the havock we've made!_
+  _How we'll talk, if we once kill a captain or two,_
+  _Of a hundred more fellows, that nobody knew._
+  _Then my tight fellow soldiers prepare for your foes._
+  _And the laurel entwine with the jolly Red Rose._
+
+[Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+    _Outside of the Royal Tent._
+
+_Enter FOOL._
+
+_Fool._ Queen Margaret has sheltered me from the peltings of fortune,
+this many a year. Now the pelting has damaged my shelter; but still I
+stick to it. More simpleton I!--to stand, like a thin-clad booby, in
+a hard shower, under an unroofed penthouse. Truly, for a fool of my
+experience, I have but little wisdom: and yet a camp suits well with
+my humour; take away the fighting--the sleeping in a field--the bad
+fare--the long marches, and the short pay--and a soldier's is a rare
+merry life.--Here come two more musterers--troth we have need of
+them--for, considering the goodness of the cause, they drop in as
+sparingly as mites into a poor's box.
+
+_Enter ADELINE and GREGORY._
+
+_Adeline._ Tremble not now, Gregory, for your life!
+
+_Gregory._ Lord, madam, that is the only thing I do tremble for: if I
+had as many lives as a cat, I must borrow a tenth, I fancy, to carry me
+out of this place.
+
+_Adeline._ Pooh! pr'ythee--we are here among friends. Did you not mark
+the courtesy of the centinels; who, upon signifying our intentions, bid
+us pass on, till we should find a leader, to whom we might tender our
+services?
+
+_Gregory._ Ah! and there he is, I suppose. [_Pointing to the FOOL._]
+Mercy on us! he's a terrible looking fellow--his coat has been so pepper'd
+with musket shot in the wars, that 'tis patch'd from the very top to the
+bottom.
+
+_Adeline._ Tut, tut, man! your fears have made you blind; this motley
+gentleman's occupation has nothing terrible in it, I'll answer for
+it--we will accost him. How now, fellow?
+
+_Fool._ How now, fool?
+
+_Adeline._ What, sirrah? call you me fool?
+
+_Fool._ 'Faith may I, sir; when you call me fellow. Hail to you, sir,
+you are very well met. Nay you need not be ashamed of me for a companion;
+simple though I seem, we fools come of a great family, with a number of
+rich relations.
+
+_Adeline._ Why do you follow the camp, fool?
+
+_Fool._ For the same reason that a blind beggar follows his dog;--though
+it may lead me where my neck may be broke, I can't get on in the world
+without it. You, sir, I take it, are come, like me, to shoot your bolt
+at the enemy?
+
+_Adeline._ I come, partly, indeed, among other purposes, to offer my
+weak aid to the army.
+
+_Fool._ Your weakness, sir, acts marvellously wisely: you'll be the
+clean-shaved Nestor of the regiment.
+
+_Adeline._ If I could find your leader, I would vouch, too, for the
+integrity of this my follower, to be received into the ranks.
+
+_Gregory._ Oh no, you need not put yourself to the trouble of vouching
+for me.
+
+_Fool._ Right; for your knave, when great folks have occasion for him,
+is received with little inquiry into his character. Marry, let an
+honest man lack their assistance, and starving stares him in the face,
+for want of a recommendation.
+
+_Adeline._ Lead us to your General, and you shall be well remember'd by
+me.
+
+_Fool._ Why, as to a General, I can stand you in little stead; but if
+such a simple thing as a Queen can content you, I am your only man: for
+ being a proper fellow, and a huge tickler up of a lady's fancy, I may
+chance to push your fortune as far as another. Truly, you fell into
+good hands when you stumbled on me. [_Flourish._] Stand back, here
+comes royalty.
+
+_Enter QUEEN MARGARET, DUKE OF SOMERSET, LA VARENNE, SENESCHAL OF
+  NORMANDY, with KNIGHTS and SOLDIERS,  from the Tent._
+
+  _Som._ Here, if it please you, madam, we'll debate.
+  Our tented councils but disturb the King,
+  And break his pious meditations.
+
+  _Marg._ True, Duke of Somerset; for some there are
+  Who, idly stretch'd upon the bank of life,
+  Sleep till the stream runs dry.--Is't not vexatious,
+  That frolic nature, as it were, in mockery,
+  Should in the rough, and lusty mould of manhood,
+  Encrust a feeble mind!--Well, upon me
+  Must rest the load of war.--Assist me, then,
+  Ye powers of just revenge! fix deep the memory
+  Of injured majesty! heat my glowing fancy
+  With all the glittering pride of high dominion;
+  That, when we meet the traitors who usurp it,
+  My breast shall swell with manly indignation,
+  And spur me on to enterprise.
+
+  _La Var._ Oh! happy
+  The knight who wields his sword for such a mistress.
+  I cannot but be proud! When late, in Normandy,
+  Your grace demanded succour of my countrymen,
+  And beauty in distress shone like the sun
+  Piercing a summer's cloud--then--then was I
+  The honour'd cavalier a royal lady
+  Chose, from the flower of our nobility,
+  To right her cause, and punish her oppressors.
+
+  _Marg._ Thanks, La Varenne; our cause is bound to you;
+  And my particular bond of obligation
+  Is stamp'd, my lord, with the warm seal of gratitude.
+  Yours is a high and gallant spirit, lord!
+  Impatient of inaction, even in peace
+  It manifests its owner: for, I found you,
+  In fertile France, (that nurse of courtesy)
+  Our sex's foremost champion;--in the tournament
+  Bearing away the prize, that you might lay it
+  At some fair lady's feet: thus, in rehearsal,
+  Training the martial mind to feats of chivalry;
+  That, when occasion call'd for real service,
+  It ever was found ready--witness the troops
+  You lead to action.--Say, lords, think you not
+  That these, our high-bred Normans, mingled with
+  Our hardy Scottish friends, like fire in flint,
+  Will, when the iron hand of battle strikes,
+  Produce such hot and vivid sparks of valour,
+  That the pale House of York, aghast with fear,
+  Shall perish in the flame it rashly kindled?
+
+  _La Var._ No doubt, no doubt!
+  'Would that the time were come, when our bright swords
+  Shall end the contest! Since I pledged myself
+  To fight this cause, delay's as irksome to me,
+  As to the mettled boy, contracted to
+  The nymph he burns for, when cold blooded age
+  Procrastinates the marriage ceremony.
+
+  _Marg._ The time's at hand, my lord; the enemy,
+  Hearing of succours daily flocking to us,
+  Is marching, as I gather, towards our camp--
+  Therefore, good Seneschal, look to our troops:
+  Keep all our men in readiness;--ride thro' the ranks,
+  And cheer the soldiery.--Come, bustle, bustle.
+  Oh! we'll not fail, I warrant!--How now, sirrah?
+  How came you here?                                    [_To the FOOL._
+
+_Fool._ Willy nilly, madam, as the thief came to the gallows. I am a
+modest guest here, madam, with a poor stomach for fighting, and need
+a deal of pressing before I fall to. When Providence made plumbers, it
+did wisely to leave me out of the number; for, Heaven knows, I take
+but little delight in lead: but here are two who come to traffic in
+that commodity.                       [_Points to ADELINE and GREGORY._
+
+_Marg._ How mean you, sir? What are these men?
+
+_Fool._ Swelling spirits, madam, with shrunk fortunes, as I take
+it;--as painful to the owners, as your gouty leg in a tight boot: but
+if a man's word be not taken in the world, he's forced to come to blows
+to keep up a reputation. Poverty without spirit lets in the frost upon
+him worse than a crazy portal at Christmas; so here are a couple of
+warped doors in the foul weather of adversity, madam, who want to be
+listed.
+
+  _Marg._ I never saw a youth of better promise:
+  But say, young man, serve you here willingly
+  In these our wars?                                     [_To ADELINE._
+
+  _Adeline._ Yes, madam, if it please you;
+  And, if my youth should lack ability,
+  I do beseech you, let my honest will
+  Atone for its defect:--yet I will say--
+  And yet I would not boast--that a weak boy
+  May show you that he is zealous in your service:
+  For tho' but green in years, alas! misfortune
+  Has sorely wrung my heart!--and the proud world,
+  (I blush for't, while I utter it)--must know
+  What 'tis to suffer, ere its thoughtless breast,
+  Callous in happiness, can warm with feeling
+  For others in distress.
+
+  _Marg._ Poor youth! I pity thee.
+  And for thy willingness, which I esteem
+  In friendly working more than if thou brought'st
+  The strength of Hercules to nerve our battle,
+  Should the just Heavens smile on our enterprise,
+  I will not, trust me, youth, forget thee.--
+
+_Enter a MESSENGER._
+
+  Now the news!
+
+  _Mess._ The enemy approaches. On the brow
+  Of the next hill, rising a short mile hence,
+  Their colours wave.
+
+_La Var._ Now then for the issue!
+
+_Marg._ Ha!--So near! Who is't that leads their power?
+
+_Mess._ The Marquis of Montague, so please your Majesty.       [_Exit._
+
+  _Marg._ Then he shall find us ready. Now, my lords!
+  Remember, half our hopes rest on this onset.--
+  Some one prepare the King.               [_A KNIGHT enters the Tent._
+  If on the border
+  Of England, here, we cut but boldly through
+  The troops opposed to intercept our passage,
+  The afterwork is easy:--
+  Where's my young son!--then, like a rolling flood,
+  That once has broke its mound, we'll pour upon
+  The affrighted country, sweeping all before
+  Our flood of power, till we penetrate
+  The very heart on't.----
+  Go, bring the Prince of Wales!--Now, gallant soldiers,
+  Fight lustily to-day, and all the rest
+  Is sport and holiday.
+
+_Enter an OFFICER with the young PRINCE._
+
+  My son!--my boy.
+  Come to thy mother's bosom! Heaven, who sees
+  The anxious workings of a parent's heart,
+  Knows what I feel for thee! Alas! alas!
+  It grieves me sore to have thee here, my child!
+  The rough, unkindly blasts of pitiless war
+  Suit not thy tender years.
+
+  _Prince._ Why, mother,
+  Mustn't I be a soldier? And 'tis time
+  I should begin my exercise--by and bye
+  'Twill be too late to learn--and yet I wish
+  That I were bigger now, for your sake, mother.
+
+_Marg._ Why, boy?
+
+  _Prince._ Oh! you know well enough, for all your asking.
+  Do you think, if I were strong enough to fight,
+  I'd let these raw-boned fellows plague you so?
+
+  _Marg._ My sweet, brave boy!--Come, lords, and gentlemen;
+  Let us go cheerily to work! If woman,
+  In whose weak, yielding breast, nature puts forth
+  Her softest composition, can shake off
+  Her idle fears,--what may not you perform?
+  And you shall see me now, steel'd by th' occasion,
+  So far unsex myself, that tho' grim death
+  (Breaking the pale of time) shall stride the field,
+  With slaught'rous step,--and, prematurely, plunge
+  His dart in vigorous bosoms, till the earth
+  Is purple-dyed in gore--still will I stand
+  Fix'd as the oak, when tempests sweep the forest.
+  But, still, one woman's fear--one touch of nature,
+  Tugs at my heartstrings--'tis for thee, my child!
+  --Oh! may the white-robed angel,
+  That watches over baby innocence,
+  Hear a fond mother's prayer, and in the battle
+  Cast his protecting mantle round thee!--On--
+  Away.                                                        [_Exit._
+
+_Gregory._ I shall never know how to set about the business I am put
+upon. Of all the sports of the field, I never went a man shooting
+before in my life:--and, yet, when the lady, with the brass bason on
+her head, begins to talk big, there is a warm glow about one, that--gad!
+I begin to think 'tis courage;--for I don't know how to describe it;
+and never felt any thing like it before. [_Alarm._] Zouns! no it
+e'n't--if it is, my courage is of a plaguy hot nature; for the very
+sound of a battle has thrown me into a perspiration. Oh! my poor
+mistress's man! Oh! I wish we were at home, and I was comfortably laid
+up in our damp garret, with a fine twinging fit of the rheumatism.
+[_Huzza._] Mercy on us!--here's a whole posse, too, coming the other
+way. I'm in for it! but, if there is such a thing as the protecting
+mantle they talk'd of, I hope 'tis a pure large one; and there'll be
+room enough to lap up me, and my mistress in the tail on't.    [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+    _The Field._
+
+_Enter LA VARENNE, followed by the FOOL._
+
+  _La Var._ Death and shame!
+  Are these the rough, and hardy northern men,
+  That were to back my Normans? Why, they fly,
+  Like skimming shadows, o'er a mountain's side,
+  Chased by the sun.
+
+_Fool._ True; the heat of the battle is too strong for their cold
+constitutions.
+
+  _La Var._ Here, sirrah, take this token to the King:--
+  Go with your utmost speed: entreat him, quickly,
+  To bring his forces in reserve. This effort
+  Restores, or kills, our hope.--Yet I'll fight all out;
+  I'll shake these pillars of the White-rose House
+  Till the whole building totters, tho' its fall
+  Should crush me in the ruins.                                [_Exit._
+
+_Fool._ Well said, Sampson--that's a bold fellow, and I'm on his side.
+Red roses for ever!
+
+_Enter a SOLDIER, of the White Rose Party._
+
+_Soldier._ Now, fellow, speak! tell me who you fight for.
+
+_Fool._ Marry, will I, very willingly. Pray canst tell who has the best
+of the battle?
+
+_Soldier._ The White Rose, to be sure: we are the strongest.
+
+_Fool._ Thank you, friend: pass on--I'm on your side. [_Exit SOLDIER._]
+A low clown, now, might stagger at this shifting; but your true,
+court-bred fool, always cuts the cloth of his conscience to the fashion
+of the times.                                                  [_Exit._
+
+_Enter GREGORY and ADELINE, hastily._
+
+_Gregory._ Run, run, madam! follow a blockhead's advice, and run, or
+'tis all over with us.
+
+_Adeline._ Whither shall I fly! Fatigue and despair so wear and press
+me, I scarcely know what course to take.
+
+_Gregory._ Take to your legs, madam! Get on now, or we shall never be
+able to get off. Come, my dear, good, Lady Adeline! Lord! Lord! only to
+see now, what little resolution people have, that they can't run away
+when there's danger. [_Shout._] Plague on your shouting! Since they
+must make soldiers of us--the light troops against the field, say I!
+
+                                 [_Exit, running, followed by ADELINE._
+
+_Alarm--Shout--and Retreat sounded._
+
+
+SCENE V.
+
+    _Open Country._
+
+_Enter the MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE, EGBERT, and
+  other LORDS of the White Rose Party, SOLDIERS, &c._
+
+  _Mont._ Cheerly, my valiant friends! the field is ours.
+  The scatter'd Roses of the Lancasters,
+  Now deeper tinted, blush a double red,
+  In shame of this defeat. Oh! this will much
+  Rejoice King Edward!--Say, has any friend
+  Made Henry sure?
+
+  _Egbert._ He is escaped alone, my lord! and Margaret,
+  Who, with her little son, went, hand in hand,
+  Hovering about the field, with anxious hope,
+  Ev'n to the very last; when she perceived
+  Her lines broke thro'--her troops almost dispersed,--
+  She hung upon her boy, in silent anguish,
+  Till the big tear dropt in his lily neck:
+  Then, kissing him, as by a sudden impulse,
+  Which mothers feel, she snatch'd him to her bosom,
+  And fled with her young treasure in her arms:----
+  Nature so spoke in't, that our very soldiers
+  Were soften'd at the scene, and, dull'd with pity,
+  Grew sluggish in pursuit.
+
+  _Mont._ Well, let them go:--
+  Their cause is, now, become so weak, and sickly,
+  That, tho' the head exist, to plot fresh mischief,
+  They will want limbs to execute,--Their House,
+  (Once strong and mighty,) like a a palsied Hercules,
+  Must, now, lament it has outlived its powers.--
+  Meantime, as we return, in pride of conquest,
+  Let us impress the minds of Englishmen
+  With new-won glories of the House of York.
+  Strike drum!--Sound trumpet!--Let the air be rent,
+  With high and martial songs of victory.
+
+
+GRAND CHORUS.
+
+        _Strike!--the God of Conquest sheds_
+        _His choicest laurels on our heads:_
+            _Mars, with fury-darting eye,_
+          _Smooths his brow, and stalks before us;_
+          _Leading our triumphant chorus,_
+            _Hand in hand, with victory._
+  _And hark! the thund'ring drum, and fife's shrill tone,_
+  _With brazen trumpet's clang, proclaim the day our own._
+
+                                                             [_Huzzas._
+
+
+
+
+ACT THE SECOND.
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+    _A Cave, in Hexham Forest; in which ROBBERS are discovered, drinking._
+
+
+OLD GLEE, AND OLD WORDS.
+
+  _When Arthur first, in court, began_
+    _To wear long hanging-sleeves,_
+  _He entertain'd three serving-men,_
+    _And all of them were thieves._
+
+  _The first he was an Irishman,_
+    _The second was a Scot,_
+  _The third he was a Welshman,_
+    _And all were knaves, I wot._
+
+  _The Irishman, he loved Usquebaugh,_
+    _The Scot loved ale, called blue-cap;_
+  _The Welshman he loved toasted cheese,_
+    _And made his mouth like a mouse-trap._
+
+  _Usquebaugh burnt the Irishman,_
+    _The Scot was drown'd in ale;_
+  _The Welshman had like t' have been choak'd with a mouse,_
+    _But he pull'd her out by the tail._
+
+
+_1 Rob._ Sung like true and noble boys of plunder! Isn't this
+free-booting spirit, now, better than leading a cowardly life of musty
+regularity? Honesty is a scarce and tender commodity, that perishes
+almost as soon as it appears:--the rich man is not known to have it,
+for fortune has never put him to the test; and the poor blockhead, that
+boasts on't, dies for hunger in proving it.
+
+_2 Rob._ Right; it is but a fever in the blood, that soon kills the
+patient if it be not expelled.--I had the fever, once.
+
+_4 Rob._ And what was your cure for't?
+
+_2 Rob._ Starving. Ever while you live, starve your fever:--when
+honesty is your case, only call in poverty as physician, and the
+disease soon yields to his prescriptions.
+
+_1 Rob._ Pshaw! plague on your physic? aren't we taking our wine in the
+full vigour of roguery? This it is [_Holding the Bottle._] that gives
+courage to poor knaves to knock down rich fools, in the forest;--just
+as it gives rich fools spirits to sally forth, and break poor knaves'
+heads, in the town. Come, as I'm Lieutenant, and our Captain is prowling,
+let's to business:--read over the list of our yesterday's booties.
+
+_2 Rob._ Agreed! but, first, one more round; one health; one general
+health, and then we'll to't.
+
+_1 Rob._ Here it is then--here's a short, little, snug, general health,
+that hits most humours; it suits your soldier, your tithe parson, your
+lawyer, your politician, just as well as your robber.
+
+_All._ Now for it.                                         [_All rise._
+
+_1 Rob._ Plunder!                                            [_Drinks._
+
+_All._ Plunder!                                           [_All drink._
+
+_1 Rob._ And now for the list.
+
+_2 Rob._ [Reads.] _Hexham Forest, May 14th, 1462. Taken, from a single
+lady, on a pad nag, eleven pounds, four groats, and a portmanteau.--She
+seemed marvellously frightened, and whispered thanks, privately, for
+her delivery._
+
+_1 Rob._ No uncommon case--she isn't the first single lady who has been
+delivered, and whispered thanks for it in private.
+
+2 Rob. _From a Scotch laird, on his way from London to Inverness--by
+Philip Thunder in gloves; the whole provision for his journey, viz. one
+cracked angel, and two sticks of brimstone._
+
+_1 Rob._ Who has his horse?
+
+_2 Rob._ No one; the Scotch laird travelled on foot. _From a pair of
+justices of the peace, a foundered mare, a black gelding, two doublets,
+and a hundred marks in gold--they were tied back to back;--_
+
+_1 Rob._ Good! It is but right, that they who bind over so many, should
+at last, be bound over themselves; and a wise thief is ever bound in
+justice to put a foolish justice in binding.
+
+2 Rob. _Back to back, and hoodwinked--They were left, lamenting their
+fate, in the forest._
+
+_1 Rob._ Lament! O villains!--To be in the commission of the peace, and
+not know that Justice should always be blind. Marry, a good day! Are there
+any more?
+
+_2 Rob._ Only a fat friar, who was half plundered, and saved himself
+by flight.
+
+_1 Rob._ The better fortune his. Few fat friars, I fancy, have the luck
+to be saved. What did he yield?
+
+2 Rob. _The rope from his middle, a bottle of sack from his bosom, and
+a link of hog's puddings, pulled out of his left sleeve._
+
+_1 Rob._ Gad a mercy, friar! For the sack, and the sausages, they shall
+be shared, merrily, among us; and for the rope,--hum!--come, we won't
+think of that, now. [_A Horn wound lowly._] Hark! there's our Captain's
+horn!--'faith, for one who, I suspect is married, he chuses an odd
+signal of approach.
+
+_2 Rob._ Nay, though he may be married, he's no milksop; and, I warrant
+him, when he's on duty, and robbing among us, he quite forgets his
+wife, as an honest man should do. He has joined us but a short time,
+yet, egad, he heads us nobly! He'll pluck you an hundred crowns from a
+rich fellow's pocket, with one hand, and throw his share of them into a
+hungry beggar's hat, with the other. But, here he comes.
+
+_Enter GONDIBERT._
+
+_All._ Hail, noble Captain!
+
+_Gondi._ How now, my bold and rugged companions! What has been done in
+my absence?
+
+_1 Rob._ Oh, sir, a deal of business--We have been washing down old
+scores, and getting vigour for new. We have had a cup for every breach
+of the law we have committed. Marry, sir, ours is a rare cellar, to
+stand such a soaking.
+
+_Gondi._ Now then, to a business of greater import. I have been lurking
+round the camp, here, on the skirts of the forest. The parties have
+met, and a hot battle ensued. It was a long time fought with such
+stubborn courage, that, as I stood observing it, the spirit of war,
+pent up within me, had well nigh burst my breast.--Twenty times, I was
+at the point of breaking from my shelter, and joining combat. But I am
+pledged to you, my fellows;--that thought restrained me.
+
+_2 Rob._ O, noble Captain!--but who has conquered?
+
+_Gondi._ Ay, there it is:--'sdeath and fury, my blood boiled to see it!
+The sleek, upstart rascals, cut through the ranks as if--oh! a plague
+on their well feeding!--We had carried it else, all the world to
+nothing!
+
+_2 Rob._ We! why what is it to us who has the day? Do but tell us who.
+
+_Gondi._ I had forgot. The Lancasters are defeated, their soldiers
+routed, and many of their leaders dispersed about the country. Some,
+no doubt, are in the forest. Usurping war never glutted on a richer
+banquet.
+
+_1 Rob._ Why, it seems to have been a pretty feast; and, the best on't
+is, now 'tis over, we shall come in for the picking of the bones.
+
+_Gondi._ It may be so. You all, I know, will expect a rich booty; and
+they whom we shall meet will, probably, from the unsettled nature of
+the times, bear their whole wealth about their persons:--but they are
+brave, and have been oppressed;--disappointment, therefore, and their
+situation, may cause them to fight in their defence, like heros.
+
+_2 Rob._ Nay, an they fight like devils, they'll find we can match them
+in courage. Put me to any proof you please, and they shall soon find me
+a man.
+
+_Gondi._ Then, prove it, friend, by pity for the unfortunate. Believe
+me, comrades, he has little better to boast than a brute, who cannot
+temper his courage with feeling. And, now, as our expedition is at
+hand, let each of you observe my orders. If there be any whose
+appearance denotes a more than common birth, treat him with due respect,
+and conduct him to my cave. As to the plunder (which our wild life
+obliges us to exact from the way-worn passenger) on this occasion,
+pr'ythee, good comrades, take sparingly, and use your prisoners
+generously.
+
+_4 Rob._ [_Half aside, and muttering._] 'Sblood! this captain of ours
+had better take to the pulpit than the road. If he must preach so
+plaguily about generosity, he might, at least, pay for it out of his
+own pocket.
+
+_Gondi._ Who's he that dares to mutter? Come forth, thou wretch! Thus
+do I punish mutiny, and presumption.
+
+                       [_Pulls him down, and holds his Sword over him._
+
+_4 Rob._ Oh, mercy! good Captain, mercy!
+
+_Gondi._ Well, take it, though thou deservest none; and learn from
+this, thou poor, base reptile! how to show mercy to others whom fortune
+places in thy power. Now, friends, all to your posts. I shall go forth
+alone. You have your orders, and I know you will obey them strictly.
+The night steals on us apace; and the angry clouds, threatning a storm,
+add to the awful gloom of the forest. Away, boys! and be steady.
+
+_1 Rob._ As rocks, Captain. Come, bullies! all to your duties. Keep
+your ears, and lose your tongues. Listen, in silence, for the tread of
+a passenger; and, when he's near enough, spring upon him, like so many
+cats at a mouse hole.
+
+
+CATCH.
+
+                _"Buz, quoth the blue-fly."_
+                _Lurk o'er the green-sword;_
+                    _Mum let us be:--_
+                _Lurk, and mum's the word,_
+                    _For you and me!_
+  _Thro' the brake, thro' the wood, prowl, prowl around!_
+  _We watch the footsteps, with ears to the ground._
+                              _Ears to the ground._
+
+                                                     [_Exeunt ROBBERS._
+
+  _Gondi._ Here is another moment snatch'd--a short one--
+  To commune with myself:--yet, wherefore, think?
+  Why court consuming sorrow to my bosom,
+  Which, like the nurs'ling pelican, drinks the blood
+  Of its fond cherisher?
+  Why rather should not turbulence of action
+  Shake off the tax of tyrannous remembrance?
+  'Tis not the mere, and actual suffering,
+  That bends the noble spirit to the earth,
+  And cracks the proud heart's chord:--The prisoner,
+  Whose feverish limbs, for many a long, long year,
+  No summer breeze has fann'd, might still be patient,--
+  Did not remembrance, yoked with cursed comparison,
+  Enter his dungeon walls, and conjure up
+  The shadows of past joys;--then, thought on thought,
+  Like molten lead, run thro' the wretch's brain,
+  And burning fancy mads him.--Hence, Remembrance!
+  How baneful art thou to me, when this course
+  Must be thy antidote! I'll thro' the forest,
+  And seek these wanderers.--Fell necessity,
+  And the rude band that I am link'd withal,
+  Demand that I should prey on them:--yet, still,
+  My heart leans to them, tho' their fatal cause
+  Has shorn me to the quick:--for them I fled
+  My home, my dear loved----Oh, peace, Gondibert!
+  Touch not that string!--If I must think, I'll think
+  That Heaven one day may smile.                               [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+    _Part of the Forest._
+
+_Enter ADELINE and GREGORY._
+
+_Gregory._ Gently, good madam; gently, for the love of corns! Where is
+it you mean to go?
+
+_Adeline._ Even where chance shall carry us, Gregory.
+
+_Gregory._ 'Faith, madam, and if chance would carry us, it would be
+doing us a great favour; for we have walked far enough, in all
+conscience.
+
+_Adeline._ Then, here, my good fellow, we must rest ourselves.
+
+_Gregory._ Here! what in the wood? and night coming on!
+
+_Adeline._ Good faith even here!--here, for necessity demands it, we
+must pass the night: and, in the morning, the ring-dove, cooing to its
+mate, will wake us to our journey homeward. This is a retreat, were but
+the mind at ease, a king might well repose in.
+
+_Gregory._ It must be King Nebuchadnezzar then: if we haven't some of
+his grass-eating qualities, we shall find ourselves badly off for a
+supper. 'Tis ten to one, too, but we may wander here for a week,
+without finding our way out again.
+
+_Adeline._ Oh! this world! this world! I am weary on't! 'Would I had
+been some villager!--'twere well, now, to be a shepherd's boy--he has
+no cares--but while his sheep browse on the mountain's side, with
+vacant mind--happy in ignorance--he sinks to sleep, o'ercanopied with
+heaven, and makes the turf his pillow.
+
+_Gregory._ Yes, but he has plaguy damp sheets, for all that. I'd
+exchange all the turf and sky in the county, for a good warm barn and a
+blanket; and as for the cooing doves, I would not give a crack'd tester
+for a forest full of them; unless I could see some of their claws stuck
+up through the holes of a brown piecrust.
+
+_Adeline._ Fie! Gregory; be content, be content. Think that we are
+happy in this forest, in having thus escaped the enemy's fire, and be
+grateful in the change.
+
+_Gregory._ Why, we are out of the fire, to be sure; but, make the best
+on't we can, we are still in the frying-pan. And starving is one of
+those blessings for which people are not very apt to be thankful. But
+we have escaped killing; so I'll e'en be content, as long as there is
+comfort in comparison. I stumbled over a fat trumpeter in the field,
+stript and plunder'd, with his skin full of bullets. Well, I am
+thankful yet--mine is a marvellous happy lot, to be better than a dead
+trumpeter!
+
+_Adeline._ Truce now, Gregory; and consider how we can best dispose
+ourselves here, till the morning.
+
+_Gregory._ Nay, there's no need of much consideration; there's little
+distinction of apartments here, madam: we shall both sleep on the
+ground floor--and our lodgings will be pure and airy, I warrant them.
+
+_Adeline._ Peace, fool! nor let thy grosser mind, half fears, half
+levity, thus trifle with my feelings! I have borne me up against
+affliction, till my o'ercharged bosom can contain no longer.
+
+_Gregory._ O the father! look if my poor dear lady be not a
+weeping!--why, madam--Lady Adeline--dear madam! I am but a fool as you
+say; but I'm as honest and as faithful as the greatest knave of them
+all:--and haven't I sighed, sobbed, fasted, fought, and run away, to
+show you that I would stand by you to the last? and haven't I----
+
+_Adeline._ Pr'ythee, no more, Gregory! bear with, my pettishness--for,
+now and then, the tongue of disappointment will needs let fall some of
+the acid drops which misery sprinkles the heart withal.
+
+_Gregory._ Now must I play the comforter. Why, lord, madam, I think,
+when a body comes to be used to it a little, this forest must be a
+sweet, dingy, retired, gloomy, pleasant sort of a place;--besides,
+what's one night? sleeping bears it out--and I'll warrant us we'll find
+such snug delicious beds of dry leaves, that-- [_Hard shower_.] 'Sbud!
+no!--I lie--it rains like all the dogs and cats in the kingdom--there
+won't be a dry twig left, large enough to shelter a cock-chafer--we
+shall both be sopped here, like two toasts in a tankard-- [_Thunder._
+
+_Adeline._ Why, why should fortune sport with a weak woman thus! why,
+fickle goddess, wanton as boys in giddy cruelty, torture a silly fly
+before you kill it?
+
+_Gregory._ 'Faith, madam, for that matter, I am but a blue-bottle of
+fortune's myself; and, though sorrow is dry, they say, this is a sort
+of soaking it does not care to be moistened with. If it would rain good
+barrels of ale, now, sorrow would not so much mind being out in the
+storm. [_Thunder again._] No; sorrow would be disappointed there too:
+this rumbling is enough to flatten the finest beer shower, a man would
+wish to take a whet in.--Lud! lud! madam! let's get out ou't, if
+there's a hollow tree to be found.                          [_Thunder._
+
+_Adeline._ The thunder rolls awful on the ear, and strikes the soul
+with terror. The plunderer, too, perhaps catching the sulphurous flash,
+explores his wretched prey, and stalks to midnight murder.
+
+_Gregory._ Mercy on us, madam, don't talk of that!--now I think on't,
+if we were to pick and chuse, for a twelvemonth, we couldn't have
+pitched upon a more convenient place to be knocked down in. Shelter!
+dear madam! shelter.
+
+_Adeline._ Is it thus you stand by me, Gregory? I, at least, hoped you
+had valour enough to--
+
+                          [_ROBBERS appear behind, and slowly advance._
+
+_Gregory._ Exactly enough; but not a morsel to spare. So we'll e'en
+look out for a place of safety. Not that I'm afraid though.--Stand by
+you?--egad, if half a dozen, now, of stout, raw-boned fellows were to
+dare to molest you, I would make no more of whipping this [_Drawing his
+Sword._] through their dirty lungs, than I would of----
+
+                               [_ROBBERS surround ADELINE and GREGORY._
+
+_1 Rob._ Stand!
+
+_Gregory._ O mercy! mercy! I'm as dead a man as ever I was in my life.
+                                         [_Drops his Sword, and falls._
+
+_Adeline._ Heavens! when will my miseries end! Speak, friends, what
+would you have?
+
+_1 Rob._ What you have.
+
+_Adeline._ If it is our lives you seek, they are so care worn, that in
+resigning them, we part with that which is scarce worth the keeping.
+
+_Gregory._ 'Tis very true indeed. Pray don't take them,
+gentlemen;--they'll do you no kind of good.
+
+_2 Rob._ Peace!
+
+_1 Rob._ Marry, a well favoured boy. Say, youth, whence came you, and
+whither bound?
+
+_Adeline._ I scarce know whither; but I came far inland; sent by my
+father to the wars; his sword the sole inheritance his age can leave
+me. This man, a faithful servant of our cottage, in simple love has
+followed me.
+
+_1 Rob._ Well, youth; be of good cheer--He, who has little, has little
+to lose; and a soldier's pocket is seldom much lighter for emptying.
+Come; you must both with us--bring them to our captain's cave.
+
+                                     [_Exeunt FIRST and FOURTH ROBBER._
+
+_Gregory._ Oh lud; oh lud! Dear, good, sweet faced gentlemen!
+
+_2 Rob._ Peace, dolt! fear not; our captain's honourable!
+
+_Gregory._ Nay, that he must be by his company--but sweet, civil,
+honest gentlemen! [_The ROBBERS press them on._] Oh confound
+these underground apartments! We shall never get out of them alive.
+Lord! lord! how hard it is upon a man to be forced to walk to his own
+burying!
+
+             [_Exeunt ADELINE and GREGORY, hurried off by the ROBBERS._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+    _Another Part of the Forest._
+
+_Enter MARGARET, with the Young PRINCE EDWARD._
+
+  _Marg._ Why, that's well done, my boy!--so--cheerly, cheerly!
+  See, too, the angry storm's subsiding:--what,
+  Thou canst not be a-weary, Ned?--I know,
+  Thou'rt more a man.
+
+  _Prince._ Sooth, now, my legs ache sadly!
+  My heart is light and fresh though; and it mocks
+  My legs for aching. I would I had your legs,
+  And you my heart.--Your heart, I fear me, mother,
+  Is heavier far than mine.
+
+_Marg._ Dost think so, Ned?
+
+_Prince._ Ay, and I know so too:--for I am in it.
+
+_Marg._ My dear, wronged child!
+
+  _Prince._ Pr'ythee now, mother, do not grieve for me;--
+  I warrant I shall live to be a king, yet.
+
+  _Marg._ Alas! poor monkey! thou hast little cause
+
+  To be in love with greatness: thou hast felt
+  Its miseries full early.
+
+  _Prince._ Then, you know
+  I've all its good to come.
+
+  _Marg._ May Heaven grant it!
+  For thou dost promise nobly, boy. This forest
+  Will screen us from the hatred of our enemies.
+  Here, till the rage of war has ceased around us,
+  I will watch o'er thee, Ned; here guard thy life;--
+  Thy life! the hope, the care, the joy of mine!
+  And when thy harrass'd limbs have gain'd their pliancy,
+  We will resume our task: for I must lead thee
+  A painful walk, across Northumberland,
+  As far as Berwick, boy; where we may meet,
+  Again, our Scottish friends. What sayest thou Ned,
+  Shouldst joy to see thy father there?
+
+  _Prince._ Ay, mother;--
+  And, though we know he has escaped the traitors,
+  Were we but sure to find him there, I could
+  Set out directly.
+
+  _Marg._ Rest a day or two:
+  For hadst thou strength, the danger that surrounds us
+  Prevents our venturing.--Come!--on a little--
+  We will go look some moss-grown cavern out,
+  And there thou shalt repose thee, sweet.--
+
+_Enter GONDIBERT._
+
+  Come, boy! come, take my hand----
+
+                         [_GONDIBERT approaches, with his Sword drawn._
+
+  _Gondi._ Advance no further.
+
+  _Marg._ Ha! Who art thou, that comest, with murderous look,
+  Here, in the dusky bosom of the wood,
+  To intercept our passage?
+
+  _Gondi._ One of those
+  Who, stript of all, by an oppressing world,
+  Now make reprisals: if my looks be dark,
+  They best explain my purpose.
+
+  _Prince._ Fly! fly! mother!
+  The villain else, will kill us.
+
+  _Marg._ Let us pass.
+  Thou know'st us not; else would there so much terror
+  Still strike thee of our person, that--no matter.
+  What cause hast thou to stay me?
+
+  _Gondi._ Biting want;--
+  An oath sworn to my fellows;--disappointment;--
+  Despair.--I came not here to parley, lady;----quickly,
+  Yield what you have, or go where I command.
+
+  _Marg._ Command! base slave! reduced to this!--Command,
+  From thee? thou worm!
+
+                      [_Making majestically past him, with the PRINCE._
+
+  _Gondi._ Nay, nay; you fly not, lady.  [_Holds his Sword, over them._
+
+  _Marg._ Oh, Heaven! my boy! strike not, on thy allegiance!
+  Save him, I charge thee, fellow! Save my son;--
+  The son of thy anointed king.
+
+  _Gondi._ My king!                   [_Drops his Sword at their Feet._
+
+  _Marg._ Ay, look, and tremble, slave.
+
+  _Gondi._ I do indeed!--
+  And tho' my sword has never been unsheathed,
+  Since fate has link'd me to a lawless band,
+  But to intimidate, not harm the passenger,
+  I rather would have plunged its naked point
+  In mine own bosom, than have raised it thus.--
+  I do beseech your pardon:--and, if aught,
+  Wherein I may be capable of service,
+  Can make atonement, you shall find me ready,
+  Be it at what blind and perilous risk soever:--
+  For I have heard the fate of this day's battle;
+  And should a guide, whose dark, and haggard fortune,
+  Wraps him in humble seeming, be thought worthy,
+  In this the time's extremity, to direct
+  Your wand'ring steps, my zeal will prove itself
+  Warm, and unshaken, madam.
+
+  _Marg._ Thou makest amends:--
+  And the strong tide of evils, rushing in,
+  With rapid force, upon us, well might urge me,
+  Like sinking men who grasp at idle straws,
+  To accept thy service. Yet, thou may'st be false,
+  And lead my boy to his destruction.--Say,--
+  What sureties, fellow, have I of thy truth?
+
+  _Gondi._ Think on the awe-inspiring air that marks
+  A royal brow, and makes the trait'rous soul
+  Shrink at its own suggestion.--And, when care,
+  With envious weight, invades the diadem,
+  To aim an injury then--'twere monstrous baseness!
+  Oh! long, and ever, ever be there seen
+  A heaven-gifted charm round Majesty,
+  To draw confusion on the wretch, who, watching
+  A transient cloud, that dims its lustre, dares
+  Think on his sovereign with irreverence!
+  But, more to bind me, madam, to your confidence,
+  Know, I have been your soldier; and have fought
+  In this proud cause--some, haply, may remember me--
+  When fortune's sunshine smiled upon it.
+
+  _Marg._ Now--
+  For greatness ever has its summer friends,
+  Who, at the fall and winter of its glory,
+  Fly off like swallows--thou'lt betray me.
+
+  _Gondi._ Never.
+  Wrong me not in your thoughts, beseech you, madam;
+  For I will serve you truly;--truly guard
+  Your royal son.--He is but half a subject,
+  Who, in the zeal, and duty, for his monarch,
+  Feels not his breast glow for his prince's welfare.
+  And, in the moment when the time's rough trial
+  Calls, loudly, on my sworn allegiance,
+  And summons it to proof, if I abandon either,
+  May Heaven, when most I stand in need of mercy,
+  Abandon me!
+
+  _Prince._ Let us go with him, mother.
+
+  _Gondi._ I know each turn and foot-path of the forest:--
+  Can lead you thro' such blind and secret windings,
+  That will perplex pursuers, till they wander,
+  As in a labyrinth.--West of this a little,
+  There stand some straggling cottages, that form
+  A silent village; and whose humble tops,
+  Deep shadow'd by the dark o'erhanging wood,
+  Escape the notice of the traveller.
+  Thither, so please you, I'll conduct you, madam.
+  I have a friend,
+  Lowly but trusty, who shall tend upon you;
+  While I will scout the country round, to gain
+  Intelligence of your divided party.
+
+  _Marg._ [_Taking up the Sword which GONDIBERT dropped._]
+  Then, take my boy!--for I will trust thee, fellow.
+  I must perforce;--but mark;--for still I doubt:--
+  If for a moment--mark me, fellow, well!
+  Thou givest me cause to think thy damn'd intent
+  Aims at my dear child's life, that very moment,
+  Tho' that the next should be my last, I'll plunge
+  Thy weapon to thy heart.
+
+  _Gondi._ Fear not.
+
+  _Marg._ Lead on.
+
+ [_Exeunt_:--_GONDIBERT leading the PRINCE, and MARGARET following with
+                                      the Sword over Gondibert's Head._
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+    _A Village, on the Skirts of the Forest._
+
+_Enter FOOL and a VILLAGER._
+
+_Vil._ Tell me, good fellow, now, I pr'ythee--
+
+_Fool._ But wilt thou lend an ear to my tale?
+
+_Vil._ That will I; all the ears I am worth.
+
+_Fool._ Then need not I tell the story:--for, if thou lend'st all thy
+ears, then thou'lt have none left to hear it.--Wast ever in a battle,
+old boy?
+
+_Vil._ No, truly!
+
+_Fool._ Then thou art a dead man.
+
+_Vil._ What, for not being in a battle!
+
+_Fool._ Yea, marry,--by the very first rapier that comes in thy
+way;--for no man can live by the sword but a soldier;--and of soldiers
+there are three degrees; and three only.
+
+_Vil._ As how?
+
+_Fool._ As thus:--Your hot fighter--your cool fighter--and your
+fighter-shy.--The last degree makes a wondrous figure, in many
+muster-rolls.
+
+_Vil._ Of which last you make one.
+
+_Fool._ In some degree.
+
+_Vil._ And it was that made you run from the battle.
+
+_Fool._ Right; running is your only surety. Bully Achilles, the great
+warrior of old, thought otherwise; and he was vulnerable only in the
+heel:--now, my heels always insure me from being wounded.--Dost know
+why Heaven makes one leg of a man stouter than the other?
+
+_Vil._ No.
+
+_Fool._ That he may be able to put the best leg foremost, when there's
+occasion.
+
+_Vil._ And you had occasion enough, last night.
+
+_Fool._ Truly, had I; and thus came I to your cottage; where I slept on
+a bare board all night.
+
+_Vil._ Ah! Heaven knows my lodging is poor enough! but such as it is,
+you are welcome.
+
+_Fool._ Nay, I quarrel not with the lodging; I only complain of the
+board--and now wouldst thou know my story.
+
+_Vil._ I would willingly hear of the battle that was lost.
+
+_Fool._ Then pr'ythee, ask of those that found it: but, come, I'll e'en
+tell thee how it was.----Thou hast a wife?
+
+_Vil._ Yes, forsooth;--that was my old dame you saw at home.
+
+_Fool._ Keep her there; for nature plainly intended her for a homely
+woman--Didst ever quarrel with her before marriage?
+
+_Vil._ Never.
+
+_Fool._ Afterwards, a little?
+
+_Vil._ Um!--Why, to say the truth, my poor dame has a fine flourish
+with a cudgel; but people will needs fall out, now and then, when once
+they come together.
+
+_Fool._ That's the very way we lost the battle:--for had the two
+parties never met, depend on't, one had never cudgel'd the other.
+
+_Vil._ Mass! thou art a rare fellow in the field!
+
+_Fool._ Very rare;--for I never come there but when I can't help it.
+
+
+SONG.--FOOL.
+
+  _To arms, to arms, when Captains cry,_
+    _With a heigho! the trumpets blow--_
+  _To legs, to legs, brave boys, say I!_
+                _Heigho;_
+            _I needs must go._
+
+  _Arrows swift begin to fly,_
+    _With a heigho! Twang goes the bow--_
+  _And soldiers tumble down and die:--_
+                _Heigho!_
+            _I'll not do so._
+
+  _Whizzing by come balls of lead;_
+    _With a heigho! thump they go.--_
+  _Tall men grow shorter by the head;_
+                _Heigho!_
+            _I'd rather grow._
+
+  _In time of trouble I'm away;_
+    _With a heigho!--ill winds blow;_
+  _But always ready at pay day;_
+                _Heigho!_
+            _Great folks do so._
+
+_Enter another VILLAGER._
+
+_1 Vil._ Now, goodman Hobs, whence come you?
+
+_2 Vil._ There is a great lord come in, from the routed party, who has
+taken shelter in our village, since break of day. One of your great
+friends, good sir.                                      [_To the FOOL._
+
+_Fool._ Didst see him! how look'd he?
+
+_2 Vil._ I tended him, some quarter of an hour:--troth, he seem'd
+wondrous weary.
+
+_Fool._ Of thy company.--Now could I be weary too, and find in my heart
+to be dull:--but here come females; and, were a man's head emptier than
+a spendthrift's purse, they will ever bring something out on't. Hence
+comes it, that your dull husband's head is improved by your lively
+wife:--if she can bring out nothing else, why she brings out horns.
+
+_Enter VILLAGERS, Male and Female._
+
+Now, good folk, whither go you?
+
+_3 Vil._ Truly, sir, this is our season for making of hay; and here am
+I, sir, with the rest of our village, going about it.
+
+_Fool._ Now might I, were it not for disgracing the army, turn mower
+among these clowns;--and why not? Soldiers are but cutters down of
+flesh, and flesh is grass, all the world over. I'll e'en out, this
+morning, and do execution in the field.--Come, lads and maidens! One
+roundelay, and we'll to't!
+
+
+SONG AND CHORUS OF VILLAGERS.
+
+  1 Wom. _Drifted snow no more is seen;_
+            _Blust'ring Winter passes by;_
+          _Merry Spring comes clad in green,_
+            _While woodlarks pour their melody._
+                _I hear him! hark!_
+                _The merry lark,_
+          _Calls us to the new mown hay,_
+          _Piping to our roundelay._
+
+  2 Vil. _When the golden sun appears,_
+            _On the mountain's surly brow;_
+          _When his jolly beams he rears,_
+            _Darting joy--behold them now!--_
+                _Then, then, oh, hark!--_
+                _The merry lark_
+          _Calls us to the new mown hay,_
+          _Piping to our roundelay._
+
+  3 Vil. _When the village boy, to field,_
+            _Tramps it with the buxom lass,_
+          _Fain she would not seem to yield,_
+            _Yet gets her tumble on the grass:_
+                _Then, then, oh, hark!_
+                _The merry lark,_
+          _While they tumble in the hay,_
+          _Pipes alone his roundelay._
+
+  4 Vil. _What are honours? What's a court?_
+            _Calm content is worth them all:--_
+          _Our honour lies in cudgel sport;_
+            _Our brightest court a green-sward ball._
+                _But then--oh hark!_
+                _The merry lark,_
+          _Calls us to the new mown hay,_
+          _Piping to our roundelay._
+
+[Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+    _An old fashioned Apartment, in BARTON'S House, in the Village.
+      Rusty Arms, and other Military Paraphernalia hanging up, in
+      different Parts; &c._
+
+_LA VARENNE and BARTON._
+
+  _Barton._ Nay, sir, thank not me:
+  I am no trader, I, in empty forms;
+  In neat congees, and kickshaw compliments;
+  In your,--"Dear sirs," and "Sir, you make me blush;"--
+  I'm for plain speaking; plain and blunt; besides,
+  I've been a soldier:--and, I take it, sir,
+  You, who are still in service, are aware
+  That blushing seldom troubles the profession.
+
+  _La Var._ Still, friend, I thank thee.--Thou hast shelter'd me,
+  At a hard trying moment, when the buffets
+  Of tainting fortune rather would persuade
+  Friends to shrink back, than serve me.
+
+  _Barton._ 'Faith, good sir,
+  I know not how you have been buffetted:--
+  But this I know,--at least I think I know it--
+  If there's a soldier, in the world's wide army,
+  Who will not, in the moment of distress,
+  Stretch forth his hand to save a falling comrade,
+  Why, then, I think, that he has little chance
+  Of being found in Heaven's muster-roll.
+
+  _La Var._ I like thy plainness well.
+
+  _Barton._ Nay, sir, my plainness
+  Is such as Nature gave me: and would men
+  Leave Nature to herself, good faith, her work
+  Is pretty equal;--but we will be garnishing;
+  Until the heart, like to a beauty's face,
+  Which she ne'er lets alone till she has spoil'd it,
+  Is so befritter'd round, with worldly nonsense,
+  That we can scarcely trace sweet Nature's outlines.
+
+  _La Var._ Who of our party, pr'ythee, since the battle
+  Have shelter'd here among the villagers?--
+  Canst tell their names?
+
+  _Barton._ Ay, marry, can I, sir.
+  But can and will are birds of diff'rent feather.
+  Can is a swan, that bottles up its music,
+  And never lets it out till death is near;
+  But will's a piping bullfinch, that does ever
+  Whistle forth every note it has been taught,
+  To any fool that bids it. Now, sir, mark;--
+  Whoever's here, would fain be private here;
+  Whoever's here, depend on't, tell I can;--
+  Whoever's here, depend on't, tell I will not.
+
+  _La Var._ Why, this is over-caution!--would not they
+  Rejoice as readily at seeing me,
+  As I at seeing them?
+
+  _Barton._ I know not that:
+  I am no whisper-monger;--and if, once,
+  A secret be entrusted to my charge,
+  I keep it, as an honest agent should,
+  Lock'd in my heart's old strong box; and I'll answer
+  No draught from any but my principal.
+
+  _La Var._ If now thou hast a charge, old trusty, I,
+  (Believe me), am next heir to't.
+
+  _Barton._ Very like.
+  Yet, sir, if heirs had liberty to draw
+  For what is not their own, till time shall give it them,
+  I fear the stock would soon be dry;--and, then,
+  The principals might have some cause to grumble.
+
+  _La Var._ Thou art the strangest fellow! What's thy name?
+
+  _Barton._ Barton;--that I may trust you with.
+
+  _La Var._ No more?
+
+  _Barton._ No, not a pin's point more.  Pshaw! here comes one,
+  To let all out. Children, and fools, and women,
+  Will still be babbling.
+
+_Enter PRINCE EDWARD._
+
+  _Prince._ Oh! my lord, is't you!
+
+  _La Var._ Oh, my young sir! how my heart springs to meet you!
+  Where is your royal mother? is she safe?
+
+  _Prince._ She's in this house, my lord.--Last night,
+  This honest man received us:--and another,--
+  His friend--not quite so honest as he might be--
+  Did bring us hither;--'twas a rogue, my lord;--
+  Yet no rogue neither;--and, to say the sooth,
+  The rogue, my lord, 's a very honest man.
+  Lord, how this meeting will rejoice my mother!
+  And she was wishing, now, within this minute,
+  To see the Seneschal of Normandy.
+
+  _Barton._ So!
+  This is the Seneschal of Normandy!
+  Here is another secret.--Plague take secrets!
+  This is in token of their liking me;--
+  Just as an over hospitable host,
+  Out of pure kindness to his visitor,
+  Crams the poor bursting soul with meat he loaths.
+
+  _La Var._ I cannot blame thee, friend;--thou knew'st me not:
+  And, thou hast, now, a jewel in thy care,
+  Well worth thy utmost caution in preserving.
+
+  _Barton._ I need not to be told the value on't.
+  I have been sworn his mother's subject, sir; and since
+  My poor house has been honour'd with her presence,
+  The tender scenes, I've been a witness to,
+  'Twixt her, and this young bud of royalty,
+  Would make me traitor to humanity,
+  Could I betray her. There is a rapturous something,
+  That plays about an English subject's heart,
+  When female majesty is seen employ'd
+  In these sweet duties of domestic love,
+  Which all can feel,--but very few describe!
+
+  _La Var._ Oh! how thou warm'st me, fellow, with thy zeal!
+  Come, my young lord!--now lead us to her majesty.       [_To BARTON._
+
+  _Barton._ Why, as things are, I'll lead you where she is:--
+  But were they otherwise, and you had not
+  Discover'd where she is--you'll pardon me--
+  But I had led you, sir, a pretty dance
+  Ere I had led you to her. Come, I'll conduct you.          [_Exeunt._
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+    _Another Apartment, in BARTON's House._
+
+_Enter GONDIBERT and 1st ROBBER._
+
+_Gondi._ Away all night! What then? Am not I their leader? Do they
+begin to doubt me? Am not I, as it were, wedded to the party?
+
+_Rob._ Very true, noble captain: and we have treated you as a wife
+would a kind husband:--but when a husband is out all night--why--
+
+_Gondi._ Well, sir;--what then?
+
+_Rob._ Marry, then, the wife is apt to grumble a little; that's all.
+
+_Gondi._ Go to;--I had reason. What's the news?
+
+_Rob._ The news is, we have taken some stragglers, in the forest.
+
+_Gondi._ Are they of note?
+
+_Rob._ 'Faith, we have some of all qualities;--gentle and simple
+mixed:--we had no time to stand upon the picking:--they're all penn'd
+up in the back cavern;--and you must e'en take 'em like a score of
+sheep--fat and lean together. But, there is a beardless youth, follow'd
+by a cowardly serving man, who presses hard to see you.
+
+_Gondi._ What would he?
+
+_Rob._ 'Faith, sir, he would be a noble fellow. I take it he has a
+great soul, too large for the laws;--he has questioned me plentifully
+concerning you.
+
+_Gondi._ Concerning me?
+
+_Rob._ Yes; he inquired if you were married; how long you had been with
+us; your age; your stature; nay, he was particular enough to ask what
+sort of a nose stood on your face.
+
+_Gondi._ Wherefore these questions?
+
+_Rob._ Troth, I think he would like well to serve in our band; for
+he seems to have a marvellous nice notion of honour. He took up your
+dagger, of curious workmanship, that lies on your table, in the cave,
+and did so study the dudgeon on't!--Marry, the boy knows how to handle
+a weapon, I'll warrant him.
+
+_Gondi._ Where have you bestowed him?
+
+_Rob._ Why, he was so importunate, that I have brought him, and his
+man, hither along.--The man, I feared, might babble: so, I've entrusted
+him to your friend Barton, here; and he, finding he has been a butler,
+has locked him in the cellarage.
+
+_Gondi._ Conduct the youth hither.
+
+                                                        [_Exit ROBBER._
+
+  Then why should I repine? since there are others,
+  Who, in the early spring, and May of life,
+  Behold the promised blossoms of their hope
+  Nipt in the very bud. Here comes the youth;--
+  And bears a goodly outside;--yet 'tis a slender bark,
+  That Providence ne'er framed for tossing much
+  In a rough sea of troubles.
+
+_Enter ROBBER with ADELINE._
+
+_Rob._ Here, youth; this is our captain. Cheer up now, and speak
+boldly. You need not fear.--A raw youth, captain, but a mettled one,
+I'll warrant him.--A word with you.           [_Takes GONDIBERT apart._
+
+_Adeline._ It is, it is my lord!--Oh Heaven! my heart!--to find him
+thus, too!--Yet, to find him any how is transport.
+
+_Rob._ I shall look to it.--You would be private now, I take it.--Now,
+youth, plead, cleverly, to get admitted among us, and your fortune's
+made. Be but a short time with us, and it will go hard, indeed, if all
+your cares, in this world, are not shortly at an end.          [_Exit._
+
+_Gondi._ Now to your business, youth.
+
+_Adeline._ 'Tis brief.--I have been sorely wrung, sir, by the keen
+pressure of mishap.--I once had friends: they have left me. One whom
+I thought a special one--a noble gentleman--who pledged himself, by
+all the ties that are most binding to a man, to guard my uninstructed
+youth--even he, to whom my soul looked up; whom, I might say, I loved
+as with a woman's tenderness,--even he has, now, deserted me.
+
+_Gondi._ Then he acted basely.
+
+_Adeline._ I hope not so, sir.
+
+_Gondi._ Trust me, I think he did, youth; for there is an open native
+sincerity that marks thy countenance, which I scarce believe could give
+just cause to a steady friend to leave thee.
+
+_Adeline._ Now, by my holy dame, he had none to suspect me. Yet, from
+the pressure of the time,--some trying chance--but, I am wandering.
+This is my suit to you.--If you should find me fit to be entrusted with
+the secrets of your party, I could wish to be enrolled among you.
+
+  _Gondi._ Hast thou well weigh'd the hardships which our life
+  Constrains us to? Our perils; nightly watchings
+  Our fears, disquietudes; our jealousies,
+  Even of ourselves?--which keep the lawless mind
+  For ever on the stretch, and turn our sleep,
+  To frightful slumbers;--where imagination
+  Discovers, to the dull and feverous sense,
+  Mis-shapen forms, ghastly and horrible;--
+  And mixes, in the chaos of the brain,
+  Terrors, half real, half unnatural;--
+  Till nature, struggling under the oppression,
+  Rouses the sleeping wretch,--who starts, and wipes
+  The chilly drop from off his clay-cold temples;
+  And fain would call for help, yet dares not utter,
+  But trembles on his couch, silent and horror struck!
+
+  _Adeline._ Attempt not to dissuade me; I am fix'd.
+  Yet there is one soft tie, which, when I think
+  The cruel edge of keen necessity
+  Has cut asunder, almost bursts my heart.
+
+  _Gondi._ What is it, youth?
+
+  _Adeline._ That, which from my youth,--
+  For I have scarcely yet told one and twenty,--
+  Might, haply, not be thought;--yet so it is;--
+  Know, then, that I am married.
+
+  _Gondi._ Married, didst say?
+  And dost thou love----
+
+  _Adeline._ Oh! witness for me, Heaven!
+  The pure and holy warmth that fills my bosom.
+
+  _Gondi._ Nay then, my heart bleeds for thee! for thou mightst
+  As easily attempt to walk unmov'd,
+  With all the liquid fires which AEtna vomits
+  Pour'd in thy breast, as here to hope for happiness.
+  Oh! what does the heart feel, that's rudely torn
+  From the dear object of its wedded love!
+  And, still, to add a spur to gall'd reflection,
+  That very object, whom the time's necessity
+  Mads you to part with, witless of the cause,
+  Arraigns your conduct.
+
+  _Adeline._ And have you felt this!                   [_With emotion._
+
+  _Gondi._ I tell thee wretched youth--fie! thou unman'st me.--
+  Pr'ythee, return, young man!--I have a feeling,--
+  A fellow feeling for thee;--if thou hop'st
+  For gentle peace to be an inmate with thee,
+  Turn thy steps homeward;--link not with our band.
+
+  _Adeline._ Wherefore should I return? return to witness
+  The bitter load of misery, which circumstance
+  Has brought upon my house? My infant children--
+
+  _Gondi._ And hast thou children then?
+  Whose innocence has oft beguil'd thy hours;
+  Who have look'd smiling up into thy face,
+  Till the sweet tear of rapturous content
+  Has trickled down thy cheek?--Thou trying for tune!
+  Mark out the frozen breast of apathy,
+  And tho' 'twere triple cased in adamant,
+  Throw but this poisonous shaft of malice at it,
+  'Twill pierce it thro'and thro'.
+
+  _Adeline._ An if I thought 'twere so?--
+
+  _Gondi._ Hear me, young man:--
+  Thou wring'st a secret from me, which, till now,
+  Was borne in silence here; while, vulture-like,
+  It preys upon my vitals.--I am married:--
+  I have a wife--and one whom kindly nature
+  Form'd in her lavish mood:--Oh! her gentle love
+  Beam'd through her eyes, whene'er she turn'd them on me,
+  With such a mild and virtuous innocence,
+  That it might charm stern murder!--and yet I
+  Have wounded, villain like, her peace. Even I,--
+  In whom her very soul was wrapt--
+  Turn'd coward with the time, have basely left her.
+  But I am punish'd for't:--day, night,--asleep,
+  Awake,--still, or in action,--bleeding fancy
+  Pictures my wife, sitting in patient anguish;
+  Pale; mild in sufferance; mingling meek forgiveness
+  With bitter agony;--blessing him who wrongs her;--
+  While my poor children, my deserted little ones,
+  Hang on her knees, and watch the silent drops
+  Steal down her grief-worn face!--Yea, dost thou weep?
+  Shape thy course homeward then; for pangs like mine,
+  Would so convulse thee, youth, that, like an engine,
+  'Twould wrench thy tender nature from its frame,
+  And pluck life with it.
+
+  _Adeline._ Oh! my dear, loved lord!
+  Here cease those pangs;--here, in the ecstacy of joy,
+  Behold your Adeline, now rushing to the arms
+  Of a beloved husband.                       [_Running into his Arms._
+
+  _Gondi._ Merciful Heaven!
+  My Adeline! And hast thou!--Oh, my heart!
+  This sudden conflict!--thus let me clasp thee to it;
+  Ne'er to part more, till pangs of death shall shake us.
+  What hast thou suffer'd, sweet!--for me to cause--
+  And are our children----?
+
+  _Adeline._ Well, and in safety.
+
+  _Gondi._ And, to leave them too!
+
+  _Adeline._ Nay, pr'ythee, now, no more of this:--
+  Blot from thy memory all former sorrow:--
+  Or, if we think on't, be it at some moment,
+  When calm content smiles round our happy board.
+  And, trust me, now, I think our storms are over:--
+  For, on my way, I learn, the House of York
+  Has now sent forth free pardon to all those,
+  Who, long attach'd to the Lancastrian party,
+  Have not engaged in their late enterprise.
+
+  _Gondi._ Blessed chance,
+  That now constrain'd me to inaction! Adeline!
+  Once more to hold thee! to return to happiness--
+  To see our children!--
+
+_Enter FIRST ROBBER._
+
+  How now! What's the matter?
+
+_1 Rob._ Marry, the matter is, with the oaf in the cellar; the fool
+shakes as though he were in an ague; we may e'en turn him adrift any
+how, for he will no how turn to our profit. He's cowardly and poor;
+he can neither rob, nor be robbed.
+
+_Adeline._ Oh! 'tis my man: I pray you conduct him hither.
+
+_1 Rob._ I'll trundle him in; but you will make nothing of him. I have
+been trying to talk him into service, and make him fit for our party;
+but there are some manner of men 'tis impossible to work any good upon.
+                                                               [_Exit._
+
+_Adeline._ Poor simpleton! 'tis Gregory, who, in pure zeal, and honest
+attachment, has followed me.
+
+_Enter GREGORY._
+
+_Gregory._ Mercy on us! this is the great cock captain of the whole
+brood of banditti! 'Tis all over! and I have been shut up, these two
+hours, like a calf for killing. Lord! lord! if calves did but know the
+reason for their being stalled, as I have been, they'd so fall away
+with fear, that veal would not be worth the taking to market.
+
+_Gondi._ Why, how now, man?
+
+_Gregory._ Oh lud! I am a poor fellow, sir; that shall be a longtime
+getting rich, and would fain not die till I am so. Take my life, sir,
+and you take all;--I carry it about me, as a snail does his
+house:--and, truly, sir, you'll find that time has a mortgage upon it
+of forty-two years, and the furniture, of late, is so worn with ill
+usage, that the remainder of the lease is not worth your
+acceptance:--if, sweet, noble, sir, you would but----
+
+      [_During this Speech, GREGORY has been gradually raising his Eyes
+              from the Ground, till he fixes them on GONDIBERT'S Face._
+
+Eh!--Oh!--O, the father!--No!--Yes--Oh lud--Oh lord!
+
+_Gondi._ Why, dost not know me, Gregory?
+
+_Gregory._ Huzza!--He's found! [_Capering._] Dear my lord, I never was
+happier since I was born, at the sight of you.
+
+  _Gondi._ Trust me, I think so, Gregory. Come, love;
+  Let's in for calmer conference. Follow, good Gregory.
+
+                                       [_Exeunt ADELINE and GONDIBERT._
+
+_Gregory._ Here's a simple change in a man's fortune! Now might I, when
+I say 'tis he--were it not as plain 'tis he as a nose is a nose--swear
+that my eyes were putting a lie in my mouth, in very spite of my
+teeth.--Oh, the quiet, comfortable days that I shall see again! Mercy
+on me! 'Tis enough to make a coward tremble, to think on the battles my
+valour has been put to. Nothing, now again, but old fare, old rubbing
+of spoons, and a cup of old sherry, behind the old pantry door, to
+comfort my nose, in a cold frosty morning.
+
+
+SONG.
+
+"Moderation and Alteration."
+
+  _In an old quiet parish, on a brown healthy old moor,_
+  _Stands my master's old gate, whose old threshold is wore_
+  _With many an old friend, who for liquor would roar,_
+  _And I uncork'd the old sherry--that I had tasted before._
+                      _But it was in Moderation, &c._
+
+  _There I had an old quiet pantry, of the servants was the head;_
+  _And kept the key of the old cellar, and old plate, and chipp'd
+      the brown bread._
+  _If an old barrel was missing, it was easily said,_
+  _That the very old beer was one morning found dead:--_
+                      _But it was in Moderation, &c._
+
+  _But, we had a good old custom, when the week did begin,_
+  _To show, by my accounts, I had not wasted a pin;--_
+  _For my lord, tho' he was bountiful, thought waste was a sin;_
+  _And never would lay out much, but when my lady lay-in._
+                      _But still it was Moderation._
+
+  _Good lack! good lack! how once Dame Fortune did frown!_
+  _I left my old quiet pantry, to trudge from town to town;_
+  _Worn quite off my legs, in search of thumps, bobs, and cracks
+      on the crown,_
+  _I was fairly knock'd up, and very near foully knock'd down._
+                      _But now there's an Alteration,_
+                      _Oh! it's a wonderful Alteration!_
+
+                                                               [_Exit._
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+    _The Village._
+
+_Enter MARGARET, LA VARENNE, and PRINCE._
+
+  _Marg._ The northern coast beset!
+
+  _La Var._ Close watch'd with enemies:--'twere too bold a risk,
+  That way to seek the sea: then bend your course
+  Thro' Cumberland, so please you.----
+  At Solway Frith, we have warm friends, to favour
+  Your embarkation--Sailing, thence to Galloway,
+  With all convenient speed, we march towards Edinburgh;
+  And thitherward, I learn, the king has fled:
+  Where, in the bosom of the Scottish court,
+  You may in safety sojourn, till the succour
+  Which noble Burgundy, warm in beauty's cause,
+  Once more, no doubt, will lend, again shall plume
+  The wing of majesty.
+
+  _Marg._ Then, let sharp injury
+  Subdue base minds alone; its scalding spirit,
+  Pour'd in a royal breast, will quicken vengeance.
+  Why, worthy Seneschal, there's hope in't still!
+  Holds it not likely,
+  When our dispersed nobility shall hear,
+  We are again on foot, our royal standard
+  Will be so flock'd with friends!----
+  Here comes the fellow, whom I told you of.
+
+_Enter GONDIBERT, ADELINE, and GREGORY, behind._
+
+  Now, good friend, the news?
+
+  _Gondi._ Thus, as my spies inform me, madam:--Montague
+  Has march'd right north; towards Dunstaburgh; hoping
+  There to surprise your Majesty--
+
+  _Marg._ Let the fool on.--
+  This favours our intended march, through Cumberland.
+  What else?
+
+  _Gondi._ No more; but that some twenty,
+  Or thereabout, of your dispersed soldiers
+  Are fall'n into my power. I have ventured,
+  Finding, that, here, the village is attach'd,
+  In honest bonds of loyalty, to direct
+  My men to march them hither: if your course
+  Should need a secret guard, these few will serve,
+  When more were dangerous.
+
+  _Marg._ Oh, true, true fellow!
+  Believe me, honest friend, of all the bolts,
+  Which spiteful fortune hurls against my crown,
+  None strike so deeply, as my poor ability
+  Now to requite thy faith.
+
+  _Gondi._ The subject, madam,
+  Who, in his poor endeavour, can relieve
+  A sovereign from distress, they, who are loyal,
+  Will pour down blessings on him; that requital
+  Threefold o'erpays his services. But here,
+  Heaven has, in pity of me, now pour'd balm
+  Upon my bleeding sufferings.
+
+  _Marg._ What, my young warrior!
+
+  _Adeline._ A weak one, madam;--and a woman too.
+  Your pardon, madam, if, to seek a husband,--
+  Happy has been my search--more than the cause,
+  Altho' my heart is warm in't--brought me hither.
+
+  _Gondi._ Your guard approaches, madam, and the villagers,
+
+_Enter KNIGHTS and SOLDIERS._
+
+  Anxious, in zeal, to see their royal mistress,
+  In throngs have follow'd.
+
+_Enter VILLAGERS, MALE and FEMALE, on each Side._
+
+  _Marg._ This is a cheering sight!
+  Soon may this warmth be general; and may Henry
+  Bask in its genial sunshine.--England, awhile, farewell!
+  And if in future times--no doubt 'twill be so--
+  Thy King unite his people to his confidence,
+  And his commanding virtues, mild, yet kingly,
+  Shall draw the breath of rapturous loyalty
+  From the gilt palace to the clay-built cottage,
+  Then will thy realm, indeed, be enviable.
+  Strike!----Then on.
+
+_Procession of SOLDIERS, and Grand Chorus of VILLAGERS._
+
+  _Sea-girt England, fertile land!_
+  _Plenty, from her richest stores,_
+  _Ever, with benignant hand,_
+  _Her treasure on thy bosom pours._
+    _England! to thyself be true;_
+      _When thy realm is truly blest,_
+    _'Tis when a monarch's love for you_
+      _Is by your loyalty confest._
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
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