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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36515-8.txt b/36515-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0a7a8fb --- /dev/null +++ b/36515-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2663 @@ +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. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle of Hexham;, by George Colman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; *** + +***** This file should be named 36515-8.txt or 36515-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/5/1/36515/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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—STRIKE NOT ON THY ALLEGIANCE +<br /> +ACT II. SCENE III +<br /> +<small>PAINTED BY HOWARD PUBLISHD BY LONGMAN & 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—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 <i>tournure</i> 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." +</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—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—yet one difficulty occurs to +abate this admiration—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.—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;—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<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—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. +</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>&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>, &c. &c.</i> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="dir-c"> +<i>SCENE—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!—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! +</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?—Fie! +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page8" name="page8"></a>[8]</span></p> + +<p> +<i>Gregory.</i> 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! +</p> +<p> +<i>Adeline.</i> Then, you are weary of my service—you wish you had not +followed me. +</p> +<p> +<i>Gregory.</i> 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. +</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—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!—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. +</p> +<p> +<i>Adeline.</i> Peace! peace, man!—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—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? +</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!—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.—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! +</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;—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—not at all—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.—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.—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;—</i></p> +<p class="i4"> <i>Then—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—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.—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:—</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—</i></p> +<p class="i2"> <i>Twittle, twittle twero—</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—</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—</i></p> +<p class="i2"> <i>Rat tat tat to tero—</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;—</i></p> +<p class="i2"> <i>Good bye, valiant Hero!—</i></p> +<p class="i2"> <i>Twittle twittle, rat a tat,</i></p> +<p class="i2"> <i>Pop, pop, pop, row de dow, &c. &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—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.—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—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—Silence. +</p> +<p> +<i>Corp.</i> Hold your peace, there, and listen to what I'm going to inform +you—Hem!—Who am I? +</p> +<p> +<i>All Soldiers.</i> Our corporal! Alick Puff;—our corporal. +</p> +<p> +<i>Corp.</i> 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. +</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;—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—now for it! +</p> +<p> +<i>Corp.</i> Then!—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.—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!—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—— +</p> +<p> +<i>Corp.</i> 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 + +<span class="pagenum"><a id="page16" name="page16"></a>[16]</span> + + 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. +</p> +<p> +<i>All.</i> Huzza! huzza! huzza! +</p> + +<h3> +SONG.—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—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, &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, &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!—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. +</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—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—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—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;—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.—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!—Well, upon me</p> +<p class="i2"> Must rest the load of war.—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—then—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;—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—witness the troops</p> +<p class="i2"> You lead to action.—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—</p> +<p class="i2"> Therefore, good Seneschal, look to our troops:</p> +<p class="i2"> Keep all our men in readiness;—ride thro' the ranks,</p> +<p class="i2"> And cheer the soldiery.—Come, bustle, bustle.</p> +<p class="i2"> Oh! we'll not fail, I warrant!—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;—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:—yet I will say—</p> +<p class="i2"> And yet I would not boast—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!—and the proud world,</p> +<p class="i2"> (I blush for't, while I utter it)—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.—</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!—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.— </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:—</p> +<p class="i2"> Where's my young son!—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.——</p> +<p class="i2"> Go, bring the Prince of Wales!—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!—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—by and bye</p> +<p class="i2"> 'Twill be too late to learn—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!—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,—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,—and, prematurely, plunge</p> +<p class="i2"> His dart in vigorous bosoms, till the earth</p> +<p class="i2"> Is purple-dyed in gore—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—one touch of nature,</p> +<p class="i2"> Tugs at my heartstrings—'tis for thee, my child!</p> +<p class="i2"> —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!—On—</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:—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—gad! +I begin to think 'tis courage;—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—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!—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:—</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.—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—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—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—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—Shout—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>, &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!—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'—her troops almost dispersed,—</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:——</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:—</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,—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.—</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!—Sound trumpet!—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!—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:—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.—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:—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;—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:—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—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.—She +seemed marvellously frightened, and whispered thanks, privately, for +her delivery.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>1 Rob.</i> No uncommon case—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—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—they were tied back to back;—</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—They were left, lamenting their +fate, in the forest.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>1 Rob.</i> Lament! O villains!—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,—hum!—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!—'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—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.—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. +</p> +<p> +<i>2 Rob.</i> O, noble Captain!—but who has conquered? +</p> +<p> +<i>Gondi.</i> 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! +</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:—but they are +brave, and have been oppressed;—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:—</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—a short one—</p> +<p class="i2"> To commune with myself:—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:—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,—</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;—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.—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.—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:—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:—for them I fled</p> +<p class="i2"> My home, my dear loved——Oh, peace, Gondibert!</p> +<p class="i2"> Touch not that string!—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!—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!—'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. +</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—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—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!—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—— +</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—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;—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— <span class="dir-i">[<i>Hard shower</i>.]</span> '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— <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.—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!—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— +</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.—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 <span class="dir-i">[<i>Drawing his +Sword.</i>]</span> through their dirty lungs, than I would of—— +</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;—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—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. +</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—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!—so—cheerly, cheerly!</p> +<p class="i2"> See, too, the angry storm's subsiding:—what,</p> +<p class="i2"> Thou canst not be a-weary, Ned?—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.—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:—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;—</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;—</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;—</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.—Come!—on a little—</p> +<p class="i2"> We will go look some moss-grown cavern out,</p> +<p class="i2"> And there thou shalt repose thee, sweet.—</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——</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—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;—</p> +<p class="i2"> An oath sworn to my fellows;—disappointment;—</p> +<p class="i2"> Despair.—I came not here to parley, lady;——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!—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;—</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!—</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.—</p> +<p class="i2"> I do beseech your pardon:—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:—</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:—</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.—Say,—</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.—And, when care,</p> +<p class="i2"> With envious weight, invades the diadem,</p> +<p class="i2"> To aim an injury then—'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—some, haply, may remember me—</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—</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—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;—truly guard</p> +<p class="i2"> Your royal son.—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:—</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.—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!—for I will trust thee, fellow.</p> +<p class="i2"> I must perforce;—but mark;—for still I doubt:—</p> +<p class="i2"> If for a moment—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>:—<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— +</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:—for, if thou lend'st all thy +ears, then thou'lt have none left to hear it.—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,—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. +</p> +<p> +<i>Vil.</i> As how? +</p> +<p> +<i>Fool.</i> As thus:—Your hot fighter—your cool fighter—and your +fighter-shy.—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:—now, my heels always insure me from being wounded.—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—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.——Thou hast a wife? +</p> +<p> +<i>Vil.</i> Yes, forsooth;—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—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!—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:—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;—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.—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—</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—</i></p> +<p class="i2"> <i>And soldiers tumble down and die:—</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.—</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!—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:—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.—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. +</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;—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! +</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—behold them now!—</i></p> +<p class="i18"> <i>Then, then, oh, hark!—</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:—</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—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; &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,—"Dear sirs," and "Sir, you make me blush;"—</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:—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.—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:—</p> +<p class="i2"> But this I know,—at least I think I know it—</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;—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?—</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;—</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;—</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!—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;—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;—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;—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.—Last night,</p> +<p class="i2"> This honest man received us:—and another,—</p> +<p class="i2"> His friend—not quite so honest as he might be—</p> +<p class="i2"> Did bring us hither;—'twas a rogue, my lord;—</p> +<p class="i2"> Yet no rogue neither;—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.—Plague take secrets!</p> +<p class="i2"> This is in token of their liking me;—</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;—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,—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!—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:—</p> +<p class="i2"> But were they otherwise, and you had not</p> +<p class="i2"> Discover'd where she is—you'll pardon me—</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:—but when a husband is out all night—why— +</p> +<p> +<i>Gondi.</i> Well, sir;—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;—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;—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. +</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;—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!—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.—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;—</p> +<p class="i2"> And bears a goodly outside;—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.—A raw youth, captain, but a mettled one, +I'll warrant him.—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!—Oh Heaven! my heart!—to find him +thus, too!—Yet, to find him any how is transport. +</p> +<p> +<i>Rob.</i> 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, + +<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.—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. +</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,—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. +</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?—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;—where imagination</p> +<p class="i2"> Discovers, to the dull and feverous sense,</p> +<p class="i2"> Mis-shapen forms, ghastly and horrible;—</p> +<p class="i2"> And mixes, in the chaos of the brain,</p> +<p class="i2"> Terrors, half real, half unnatural;—</p> +<p class="i2"> Till nature, struggling under the oppression,</p> +<p class="i2"> Rouses the sleeping wretch,—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,—</p> +<p class="i2"> For I have scarcely yet told one and twenty,—</p> +<p class="i2"> Might, haply, not be thought;—yet so it is;—</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——</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—fie! thou unman'st me.—</p> +<p class="i2"> Pr'ythee, return, young man!—I have a feeling,—</p> +<p class="i2"> A fellow feeling for thee;—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;—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—</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?—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?—</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p> <i>Gondi.</i> Hear me, young man:—</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.—I am married:—</p> +<p class="i2"> I have a wife—and one whom kindly nature</p> +<p class="i2"> Form'd in her lavish mood:—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!—and yet I</p> +<p class="i2"> Have wounded, villain like, her peace. Even I,—</p> +<p class="i2"> In whom her very soul was wrapt—</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:—day, night,—asleep,</p> +<p class="i2"> Awake,—still, or in action,—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;—blessing him who wrongs her;—</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!—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;—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!—Oh, my heart!</p> +<p class="i2"> This sudden conflict!—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!—for me to cause—</p> +<p class="i2"> And are our children——?</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:—</p> +<p class="i2"> Blot from thy memory all former sorrow:—</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:—</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—</p> +<p class="i2"> To see our children!—</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;—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—— +</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!—Oh!—O, the father!—No!—Yes—Oh lud—Oh lord! +</p> +<p> +<i>Gondi.</i> Why, dost not know me, Gregory? +</p> +<p> +<i>Gregory.</i> Huzza!—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—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. +</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—that I had tasted before.</i></p> +<p class="i18"> <i>But it was in Moderation, &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:—</i></p> +<p class="i18"> <i>But it was in Moderation, &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;—</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:—'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.——</p> +<p class="i2"> At Solway Frith, we have warm friends, to favour</p> +<p class="i2"> Your embarkation—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!——</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:—Montague</p> +<p class="i2"> Has march'd right north; towards Dunstaburgh; hoping</p> +<p class="i2"> There to surprise your Majesty—</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p> <i>Marg.</i> Let the fool on.—</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;—and a woman too.</p> +<p class="i2"> Your pardon, madam, if, to seek a husband,—</p> +<p class="i2"> Happy has been my search—more than the cause,</p> +<p class="i2"> Altho' my heart is warm in't—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.—England, awhile, farewell!</p> +<p class="i2"> And if in future times—no doubt 'twill be so—</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!——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> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle of Hexham;, by George Colman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; *** + +***** This file should be named 36515-h.htm or 36515-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/5/1/36515/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle of Hexham;, by George Colman + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE OF HEXHAM; *** + +***** This file should be named 36515.txt or 36515.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/5/1/36515/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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