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Ros. Give me thy hand, I'm glad on't, O! I'm glad on't!

It should be so! How like a hateful ape
Detected grinning, 'midst his pilfer'd hoard,
A cunning man appears, whose secret frauds
Are open'd to the day! scorn'd, hooted, mock'd!
Scorn'd by the very fools who most admired
His worthless art. But when a great mind falls,
The noble nature of man's generous heart
Doth bear him up against the shame of ruin;
With gentle censure using but its faults
As modest means to introduce his praise;
For pity like a dewy twilight comes

To close the oppressive splendour of his day,
And they who but admired him in his height,
His alter'd state lament, and love him fall'n.

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I cannot tell thee;

Man. Ah! but he is not now the man he was.
Liberal he'll be. God grant he may be quiet.
Jer. What has befall'n him?
Man.
But faith, there is no living with him now.
Jer. And yet methinks, if I remember well,
You were about to quit his service, Manuel,
When last he left this house. You grumbled then.
Man. I've been upon the eve of leaving him
These ten long years; for many times is he
So difficult, capricious, and distrustful,

He galls my nature—yet, I know not how,
A secret kindness binds me to him still.
Jer. Some, who offend from a suspicious nature,
Will afterward such fair confession make
As turns e'en th' offence into a favour.

Man. Yes, some indeed do so: so will not he: He'd rather die than such confession make.

Jer. Ay, thou art right; for now I call to mind That once he wrong'd me with unjust suspicion, When first he came to lodge beneath my roof And when it so fell out that I was proved Most guiltless of the fault, I truly thought He would have made profession of regret. But silent, haughty, and ungraciously He bore himself as one offended still. Yet shortly after, when unwittingly

I did him some slight service, o' the sudden

He overpower'd me with his grateful thanks,

And would not be restrain'd from pressing on me

A noble recompense. I understood

His o'erstrain'd gratitude and bounty well,
And took it as he meant.

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I would have left him many years ago,
But that with all his faults there sometimes come
Such bursts of natural goodness from his heart,
As might engage a harder churl than me

To serve him still.-And then his sister too;

A noble dame, who should have been a queen:
The meanest of her hinds, at her command,
Had fought like lions for her, and the poor,
E'en o'er their bread of poverty, had bless'd her-
She would have grieved if I had left my lord.
Jer. Comes she along with him?

Man. No, he departed all unknown to her,
Meaning to keep conceal'd his secret route;
But well I knew it would afflict her much,
And therefore left a little nameless billet,
Which after our departure, as I guess,
Would fall into her hands, and tell her all.
What could I do? O 'tis a noble lady!

Jer. All this is strange-something disturbs his mind

Belike he is in love.

Man.
No, Jerome, no.
Once on a time I served a noble master,
Whose youth was blasted with untoward love,
And he with hope, and fear, and jealousy
For ever toss'd, led an unquiet life;
Yet, when unruffled by the passing fit,
His pale wan face such gentle sadness wore
As moved a kindly heart to pity him.
But Monfort, even in his calmest hour,
Still bears that gloomy sternness in his eye
Which powerfully repels all sympathy.
O no good Jerome, no; it is not love.

Jer. Hear I not horses trampling at the gate?

(Listening.)

He is arrived-stay thou-I had forgot-
A plague upon't! my head is so confused-
I will return i' th' instant to receive him.

[EXIT hastily. (A great bustle without. EXIT Manuel with lights, and returns again, lighting in DE MONFORT, as if just alighted from his journey.)

Jer. Here is a little of the favourite wine That you were wont to praise. Pray honour me. (Fills a glass.)

De Mon. (after drinking.) I thank you, Jerome,
'tis delicious.

Jer. Ay, my dear wife did ever make it so.
De Mon. And how does she?
Jer.

Alas, my lord! she's dead.
De Mon. Well, then she is at rest.
Jer.
How well, my lord?
De Mon. Is she not with the dead, the quiet dead,
Where all is peace? Not e'en the impious wretch,
Who tears the coffin from its earthly vault,
And strews the mouldering ashes to the wind,
Can break their rest.

Jer. Wo's me! I thought you would have
grieved for her.

She was a kindly soul! Before she died,
When pining sickness bent her cheerless head,
She set my house in order-

And but the morning ere she breathed her last,
Bade me preserve some flaskets of this wine,
That should the Lord De Monfort come again
His cup might sparkle still. (De Monfort walks
across the stage, and wipes his eyes.)

Man. Your ancient host, my lord, receives you Indeed I fear I have distress'd you, sir;

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De Mon. Move what thou wilt, and trouble me To make this cursed noise? (To Manuel.) Go to

no more.

(Manuel, with the assistance of other Servants, sets about putting the things in order, and De Monfort remains sitting in a thoughtful posture.)

the gate.

All sober citizens are gone to bed;

[EXIT Manuel.

It is some drunkards on their nightly rounds,
Who mean it but in sport.

Jer. I hear unusual voices-here they come.

Enter JEROME, bearing wine, &c. on a salver. As he Re-enter MANUEL, showing in Count FREBERG and his approaches DE MONFORT, MANUEL pulls him by the sleeve.

Man. (aside to Jerome.) No, do not now; he will not be disturb'd.

LADY, with a mask in her hand.

Freb. (running to embrace De Mon.) My dearest Monfort! most unlook'd for pleasure!

Do I indeed embrace thee here again?

Jer. What, not to bid him welcome to my house, I saw thy servant standing by the gate, And offer some refreshment?

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His face recall'd, and learnt the joyful tidings.
Welcome, thrice welcome here!

De Mon. I thank thee, Freberg, for this friendly
visit,
And this fair lady too.
Lady.

(Bowing to the lady.)

I fear, my lord,

Jer. aside to Manuel.) Ah, Manuel, what an We do intrude at an untimely hour:

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But now, returning from a midnight mask,
My husband did insist that we should enter.

Freb. No, say not so; no hour untimely call,
Which doth together bring long absent friends.
Dear Monfort, why hast thou so slyly play'd,
To come upon us thus so suddenly?

De Mon. O! many varied thoughts do cross our brain,

Which touch the will, but leave the memory trackless;

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friends!

Lady. (turning from him displeased to Mon.) You And meets not this man's love.-Friends! rarest are fatigued, my lord; you want repose; Say, should we not retire?

Freb. Ha! is it so? My friend, your face is pale, have you been ill? De Mon. No, Freberg, no; I think I have been well.

Freb. (shaking his head.) I fear thou hast not,
Monfort-Let it pass.

We'll re-establish thee: we'll banish pain.
I will collect some rare, some cheerful friends,
And we shall spend together glorious hours,
That gods might envy. Little time so spent
Doth far outvalue all our life beside.
This is indeed our life, our waking life,
The rest dull breathing sleep.

Rather than share his undiscerning praise With every table wit, and bookform'd sage, And paltry poet puling to the moon,

I'd court from him proscription, yea, abuse, And think it proud distinction.

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[EXIT.

JEROME'S

HOUSE; A TABLE AND BREAKFAST SET OUT. Enter De MONFORT, followed by MANUEL, and sets himself down by the table, with a cheerful face. De Mon. Manuel, this morning's sun shines pleasantly:

These old apartments too are light and cheerful. Our landlord's kindness has revived me much;

De Mon. Thus, it is true, from the sad years of He serves as though he loved me. This pure air

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Freb. Judge for thyself: in truth I do not There are no serpents in our pleasant fields.

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De Mon. Think'st thou there are no serpents in

the world

But those who slide along the grassy sod,
And sting the luckless foot that presses them?
There are who in the path of social life

Do bask their spotted skins in fortune's sun,
And sting the soul-Ay, till its healthful frame
Is changed to secret, festering, sore disease,
So deadly is the wound.

Man. Heaven guard your honour from such horrid scath!

They are but rare, I hope ?

De Mon. (shaking his head.) We mark the hollow eye, the wasted frame, The gait disturb'd of wealthy honour'd men, But do not know the cause.

Man. 'Tis very true. God keep you well, my

lord!

De Mon. I thank thee, Manuel, I am very well. I shall be gay too, by the setting sun.

I go to revel it with sprightly dames, And drive the night away.

(Filling another cup, and drinking.) Man. I should be glad to see your honour gay. De Mon. And thou too shalt be gay. There, honest Manuel,

Put these broad pieces in thy leathern purse,
And take at night a cheerful jovial glass.
Here is one too, for Bremer: he loves wine;
And one for Jaques: be joyful all together.

Enter SERVANT.

Ser. My lord, I met e'en now, a short way off, Your countryman, the Marquis Rezen velt.

De Mon. (starting from his seat, and letting the cup fall from his hand.) Who, say'st thou?

Ser. Marquis Rezenvelt, an' please you.

De Mon. Thou liest-it is not so-it is impos

sible!

Ser. I saw him with these eyes, plain as your

self.

The air wherein thou draw'st thy fulsome breath Is poison to me-Oceans shall divide us! (Pauses.) But no; thou think'st I fear thee, cursed reptile; And hast a pleasure in the damned thought. Though my heart's blood should curdle at thy sight, I'll stay and face thee still.

(Knocking at the chamber door.) Ha! who knocks there? Freb. (without.) It is thy friend, De Monfort. De Mon. (opening the door.) Enter, then.

Enter FREBERG.

Freb. (taking his hand kindly.) How art thou now? How hast thou past the night?

Has kindly sleep refresh'd thee?

De Mon. Yes, I have lost an hour or two in sleep,

And so should be refresh'd.

Freb.

And art thou not?
Thy looks speak not of rest. Thou art disturb'd.
De Mon. No, somewhat ruffled from a foolish
cause,

De Mon. Fool! 'tis some passing stranger thou Which soon will pass away.

hast seen,

And with a hideous likeness been deceived.

Ser. No other stranger could deceive my sight. De Mon. (dashing his clenched hand violently upon the table, and overturning every thing.) Heaven blast thy sight! it lights on nothing good.

Ser. I surely thought no harm to look upon him. De Mon. What, dost thou still insist? Him must it be?

Does it so please thee well? (Servant endeavours to speak.) Hold thy damn'd tongue!

By heaven I'll kill thee! (Going furiously up to him.)

Freb. (shaking his head.) Ah no, De Monfort! something in thy face

Tells me another tale. Then wrong me not
If any secret grief distract thy soul,
Here am I all devoted to thy love:
Open thy heart to me. What troubles thee?
De Mon. I have no grief: distress me not, my
friend.
Freb. Nay, do not call me so.
friend,

Wert thou my

Wouldst thou not open all thine inmost soul,
And bid me share its every consciousness?
De Mon. Freberg, (thou know'st not man; not
nature's man,

Man. (in a soothing voice.) Nay, harm him not, But only him who, in smooth studied works

my lord; he speaks the truth;

I've met his groom, who told me certainly
His lord is here. I should have told you so,
But thought, perhaps, it might displease your
honour.

De Mon. (becoming all at once calm, and turning sternly to Manuel.) And how darest thou think it would displease me? What is't to me who leaves or enters Amberg? But it displeases me, yea, even to frenzy, That every idle fool must hither come,

To break my leisure with the paltry tidings

Of all the cursed things he stares upon.
(Servant attempts to speak-De Monfort stamps
with his foot.)

Take thine ill-favour'd visage from my sight,
And speak of it no more.

[EXIT Servant.

And go thou too; I choose to be alone.

[EXIT Manuel. (De Monfort goes to the door by which they went out; opens it and looks.)

But is he gone indeed? yes, he is gone. (Goes to the opposite door, opens it, and looks: then gives loose to all the fury of gesture and walks up and down in great agitation.) It is too much: by heaven it is too much! He haunts me-stings me-like a devil hauntsHe'll make a raving maniac of me--Villain!

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Of polish'd sages, shines deceitfully
In all the splendid foppery of virtue.
That man was never born whose secret soul,
With all its motley treasure of dark thoughts,
Foul fantasies, vain musings, and wild dreams,
Was ever open'd to another scan.
Away, away! it is delusion all.

Freb. Well, be reserved then; perhaps I'm wrong.

De Mon. How goes the hour?

Freb. 'Tis early still; a long day lies before us; Let us enjoy it. Come along with me ;

I'll introduce you to my pleasant friend.
De Mon. Your pleasant friend?
Freb.

Yes, him of whom I spake.
(Taking his hand.)
There is no good I would not share with thee;
And this man's company, to minds like thine,
Is the best banquet feast I could bestow.
But I will speak in mystery no more;

It is thy townsman, noble Rezervelt.

(De Mon. pulls his hand hastily from Freberg, and shrinks back.)

Ha! what is this? Art thou pain-stricken,

Monfort?

Nay, on my life, thou rather seem'st offended: Does it displease thee that I call him friend? De Mon. No, all men are thy friends.

Freb. No, say not all men. But thou art offend- He seem'd amazed; and fain he would have learnt

ed.

I see it well. I thought to do thee pleasure.
But if his presence is not welcome here,
He shall not join our company to-day.

De Mon. What dost thou mean to say? What is't
to me

Whether I meet with such a thing as Rezenvelt
To-day, to-morrow, every day, or never?

What cause procured us so much happiness.
He question'd hard, and hardly would believe,
I could not satisfy his strong desire.

Rez. And know you not what brings
Monfort here?

Freb. Truly, I do not.
Rez.

O'tis love of me.

I have but two short days in Amberg been,

Freb. In truth, I thought you had been well with And here with postman's speed he follows me, him.

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What stranger speaks below?

Man.

De

Finding his home so dull and tiresome grown.
Freb. (to De Mon.) Is Rezenvelt so sadly miss'd
with you?

Your town so changed?

De Mon.

Not altogether so;
Some witlings and jest-mongers still remain
For fools to laugh at.

Rez. But he laughs not, and therefore he is wise.
For ever frowns on them with sullen brow
Who Contemptuous; therefore he is very wise.
Nay, daily frets his most refined soul
With their poor folly, to its inmost core;
Therefore he is most eminently wise.

The Marquis Rezenvelt.
I have not told him that you are within.
De Mon. (angrily.) And wherefore didst thou
not? Let him ascend.

(A long pause. De Monfort walking up and
down with a quick pace.)

Enter REZENVELT, and runs freely up to De Monfort.
Rez. (to De Mon.) My noble marquis, welcome!
De Mon.
Sir, I thank you.
Rez. (to Freb.) My gentle friend, well met.
Abroad so early?

Freb. It is indeed an early hour for me.
How suits thy last night's revel on thy spirits?
Rez. O, light as ever. On my way to you,'
E'en now, I learnt De Monfort was arrived,
And turn'd my steps aside; so here I am.

(Bowing gayly to De Monfort.)
De Mon. I thank you, sir; you do me too much
honour.
(Proudly.)

Rez. Nay, say not so; not too much honour, surely,

Unless, indeed, 'tis more than pleases you.

De Mon. (confused.) Having no previous notice of your coming,

I look'd not for it.

Rez. Ay, true indeed; when I approach you
next,

I'll send a herald to proclaim my coming,
And bow to you by sound of trumpet, marquis.
De Mon. (to Freb. turning haughtily from Re-
zenvelt with affected indifference.) How
does your cheerful friend, that good old
man?

Freb. Fy, Rezenvelt! you are too early gay. Such spirits rise but with the evening glass: They suit not placid morn.

(To De Monfort, who, after walking impatiently
up and down, comes close to his ear, and lays
hold of his arm.)

What would you, Monfort?
De Mon. Nothing-what is't o'clock ?
No, no—I had forgot-'tis early still.

(Turns away again.) Freb. (to Rez.) Waltser informs me that you have agreed

To read his verses o'er, and tell the truth.
It is a dangerous task.

Rez.

Yet I'll be honest: I can but lose his favour and a feast. (Whilst they speak, De Monfort walks up and down impatiently and irresolute; at last pulls the bell violently.)

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After so long a journey.

De Mon. (impatiently.) Well-'tis good. Begone! I want thee not. [EXIT Servant. Rez. (smiling significantly.) I humbly crave your pardon, gentle marquis. It grieves me that I cannot stay with you, And make my visit of a friendly length.

Freb. My cheerful friend? I know not whom I trust your goodness will excuse me now;

you mean.

De Mon. Count Waterlan.

Freb. I know not one so named.

Another time I shall be less unkind. (To Freberg.) Will you not go with me? Freb. Excuse me, Monfort, I'll return again. [EXEUNT ReZenvelt and Freberg. De Mon. (alone, tossing his arms distractedly.) Freb. You have not yet inquired for honest | Hell hath no greater torment for th' accursed

De Mon. (very confused.) O pardon me-it was

at Bâle I knew him.

Reisdale.

I met him as I came, and mention'd you.

Than this man's presence gives-
Abhorred fiend! he hath a pleasure too,

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