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Hast. Rise, gentle daine, you wrong my meaning
much, Think me not guilty of a thought so vain, To sell my courtesy for thanks like these. 7. Sh. 'Tis true, your bounty is beyond my speak
grace and goodness you have shewn to me.
7. Sh. Alas! my lord
Hast. Why bend thy eyes to earth ?
7. Sh. If pity dwells within your noble breast, (As sure it does) Oh, speak not to me thus.
Hast. Can I behold thee, and not speak of love?
soul faints, and sickens with desire; How canst thou give this motion to my heart, And bid my tongue be still?
7. Sh. Cast round your eyes
" where sin and misery, “ Like loathsome weeds, have over-run the soil, “ And the destroyer, Shame, has laid all waste." Hast. What means this peevish, this fantastic
change? Where is thy wonted pleasantness of face, Thy wonted graces, and thy dimpled smiles ? Where hast thou lost thy wit, and sportive mirth? That chearful heart, which us'd to dance for ever, And cast a day of gladness all around thee?
7. Sh. Yes, I will own I merit the reproach; And for those foolish days of wanton pride, My soul is justly humbled to the dust : All tongues, like yours, are licens'd to upbraid me, Still to repeat my guilt, to urge my infamy, And treat me like that abject thing I have been. " Yet let the saints be witness to this truth,
That now, tho' late, I look with horror back, “ That I detest my wretched self, and curse “My past polluted life. All-judging Heav'n,
“ Who knows my crimes, has seen my sorrow for
them.” Hast. No more of this dull stuff. 'Tis time enough To whine and mortify thyself with penance, “ When the decaying sense is pall’d with pleasure, “ And weary nature tires in her last stage; “ Then weep and tell thy beads, when alt'ring rheums “ Have stain'd the lustre of thy starry eyes, “ And failing palsies shake thy wither'd hand.” The present moment claims more gen'rous use ; Thy beauty, night and solitude, reproach me, For having talk'd thus long-come let me press thee,
[Laying hold of her. Pant on thy bosom, sink into thy arms, And lose myself in the luxurious flood. “ 7. Sh. Never! by those chaste lights above, I
swear, “ My soul shall never know pollution more;" Forbear, my lord !-here let me rather die :
[Kneeling. “ Let quick destruction overtake me here,” And end my sorrows and my shame for ever.
Hast. Away with this perverseness,--'tis too much. Nay, if you strive-'tis monstrous affectation!
[Striving 7. Sh. Retire ! I beg you leave me Hast. Thus to coy
it! With one who knows you too.
7. Sh. For mercy's sake
Hast. Ungrateful woman! Is it thus you pay My services ?
7. Sh. Abandon me to ruinRather than urge meHast. This way to your chamber;
[Pulling hér. There if you struggle
7. Sh. Help, oh, gracious Heaven! Help! Save mel Help!
Enter DUMONT, he interposes. Dum. My lord I for honour's sakeHast. Hah! What art thou !- Begone!
Dum. My duty calls me To
my attendance on my mistress here. “ 7. Sh. For pity, let me go”.
Hast. Avaunt! base groomAt distance wait, and know thy office better. Dum. “ Forgo your hold, my lord !" 'tis most un
manly This violence
Hast. Avoid the room this moment, " Or I will tread thy soul out."
Dum. No, my lord-
Hast. And dost thou know me, slave?
Dum. Yes, thou proud lord ! I know thee well; know thee with each advantage Which wealth, or power, or noble birth can give thee.
I know thee, too, for one who stains those honours,
Hast. 'Tis wond'rous well! I see, my saint-like dame,
railer! Nor urge my rage too far, 'est thou should'st find I have as daring spirits in my blood As thou or any of thy race e'er boasted ; And tho' no gaudy titles grac'd my birth, 66 Titles, the servile courtier's lean reward, “ Sometimes the pay of virtue, but more oft « The hire which greatness gives to slaves and syco.
phants," Yet Heav'n that made me honest, made me more Than ever king did, when he made a lord. Hast. Insolent villain! henceforth let this teach thee
[Draws and strikes him. The distance 'twixt a peasant and a prince. Dum. Nay, then, my lord, [drawing] learn you by
this, how well An arm resolv'd can guard its master's life.
[They fight. “ 3. Sh. Oh my distracting fears ! hold, for sweet
[They fight, Dumont disarms Lord Hastings. Hast. Confusion! baffled by a base-born hind! Dam. Now, haughty sir, where is our difference now: