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- LASKA. I fear! whom? What? Glycine. I know, what I should fear, Were I in Laska's place. LASKA. What? Glycine. My own conscience, For having fed my jealousy and envy with a plot, made out of other men's revenges, Against a brave and innocent young man's life! Yet, yet, pray tell me! laska (malignantly). You will know too soon. Glycine. Would I could find my lady! though she chid me— Yet this suspense— [Going. LA's KA. Stop! stop! one question only – I am quite calm— GLY cine. Ay, as the old song says, Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove. Nay now, I have marr'd the verse: well! this one questionLASKA. Are you not bound to me by your own promise? And is it not as plainGlycine. Halt! that's two questions. LAs KA. Pshaw! Is it not as plain as impudence, That you're in love with this young swaggering beggar, Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused, Why press'd you forward ' Why did you defend him? GLY cink. Question meet question: that 's a woman's privilege. Why, Laska, did you urge Lord Casimir To make my lady force that promise from me? L.Ask A. So then, you say, Lady Sarolta forced you? GLY cine. Could I look up to her dear countenance, And say her nay? As far back as I wot of All her commands were gracious, sweet requests. How could it be then, but that her requests Must needs have sounded to me as commands? And as for love, had Î a score of loves, I'd keep them all for my dear, kind, good inistress. LASKA. Not one for Bethlen 1 Glycin E. Oh! that's a different thing. To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious To his good old father. But for loving him— Nay, there, indecd you are mistaken, Laska Poor youth : I rather think I grieve for him; For I sigh so deeply when I think of him! And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes, And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt That the war-wolf had gored him as he hunted In the haunted forest!

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LASKA. You dare own all this? Your lady will not warrant promise-breach. Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I'll make you Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odds, my fingers Tingle already! [Makes threatening signs. Glycine (aside). Ha! Bethlen coming this way! [Glycine then cries out as if afraid of being beaten. Oh, save me! save me! Pray don't kill me, Laska! Enter Bethlen in a Hunting Dress. Beth Len. What, beat a woman' LAsKA (to Glycine). O you cockatrice' Betra Len. Unmanly dastard, hold! lAsk A (pompously). Do you chance to know Who-I–am, Sir?—(S'death how black he looks!) Beth Len. I have started many strange beasts in my time, But none less like a man, than this before me That lifts his hand against a timid female. LASKA. Bold youth ! she's mine. GLY cine. No, not my master yet, But only is to be; and all because Two years ago my lady ask'd me, and I promised her, not him; and if she'll let me, I'll hate you, my lord's steward. Beth Lex. Hush, Glycine ! GLY cine. Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought False witnesses to swear away your life: Your life, and old Bathory's too. to et H LEN. Bathory's, Where is my father? Answer, or——Ha! gone! [Laska during this time slinks off the Stage, using threatening gestures to Glycine. GLY cine. Oh, heed not him " I saw you pressing onward, And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth, It is your life they seek Betti Lt. N. My life? GLY Cin E. Alas ! Lady Sarolta even— bettile N. She does not know me! GLY cine. Oh that she did! she could not then have spoken With such stern countenance. But though she spurn me, I will kneel, Bethlen— Beth LEN. Not for me, Glycine! What have I done? or whom have I offended ? GLY cine. Rash words, "t is said, and treasonous, of the king. [Bethlen mutters to himself indignantly. Glycine (aside).

So looks the statue, in our hall, o' the god, The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!

Bethlen (muttering aside).

Glycine. •
Ah, often have I wished you were a king.
You would protect the helpless every where,
As you did us. And I, too, should not then
Grieve for you, Bethlen, as I do; nor have
The tears come in my eyes; nor dream bad dreams
That you were kill'd in the forest; and then Laska
Would have no right to rail at me, nor say
(Yes, the base man, he says) that l—I love you.

Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed—
But in good truth I know not what I speak.
This luckless morning I have been so haunted
With my own fancies, starting up like omens,
That I feel like one, who waking from a dream
Both asks and answers wildly.—But Bathory?

GLY cine.
Hist! "t is my lady's step! She must not see you!

[Bethlen retires.

Enter from the Cottage SAbolta and BAThony.

sanolta. Go, seek your son I need not add, be speedy– You here, Glycine? GLY cine. Pardon, pardon, Madam! If you but saw the old man's son, you would not, You could not have him harm'd. SAROLTA. Be calm, Glycine! GLY cine. No, I shall break my heart. sAnolta (taking her hand). Ha! is it so? O strange and hidden power of sympathy, That of like fates, though all unknown to each, Dost make blind instincts, orphan's heart to orphan's Drawing by dim disquiet! GLY cine. Old Bathory— SARolt.A. Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears. Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen Seems a most noble and deserving youth. GLY cine. My lady does not mock me! SARolt A. Where is Laska? Has he not told thee? Glycine. Nothing. In his fear— Anger, I mean-stole off—I am so flutter’d— Left me abruptly— SARolta. His shame excuses him He is somewhat hardly task'd; and in discharging His own tools, cons a lesson for himself. Bathory and the youth henceforward live Safe in my lord's protection. GLY cine. The saints bless you! Shame on my graceless heart! How dared 1 fear Lady Sarolta could be cruel!

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SAR out A. Come, Be yourself, girl! Glycine. O, "t is so full here! [At her heart. And now it can not harm him if I tell you, That the old man's sonSAno LTA. Is not that old man's son! A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his. For all I know of thee is, that thou art A soldier's orphan: left when rage intestine Shook and engulf'd the pillars of Illyria. This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake, This, so mysteriously inscribed by nature, Perchance may piece out and interpret thine. Command thyself! Be secret! His true father—— Hear'st thou? Glycine (eagerly). O tell– Bethlen (who had overheard the last few words, now rushes out). Yes, tell me, Shape from heaven: who is my father sabotra (gazing with surprise). Thine? Thy father? Rise ! Glycine. Alas! He hath alarm'd you, my dear lady! SARol.T.A. His countenance, not his act! GLY cine. Rise, Bethlen Rise! Bethlen. No: kneel thou too! and with thy orphan's tongue Plead for me! I am rooted to the earth, And have no power to rise! Give me a father! There is a prayer in those uplifted eyes That seeks high Heaven! But I will overtake it, And bring it back, and make it plead for me In thine own heart! Speak! speak: Restore to me A name in the world! s.Ano Lt.A. By that blest Heaven I gazed at, I know not who thou art. And if I knew, Dared 1–But rise! Betfilrn. Blest spirits of my parents, Ye hover o'er me now! Yeshine upon me! And like a flower that coils forth from a ruin, I feel and seek the light, I cannot see! SA holt A. Thou see'st yon dim spot on the mountain's ridge, But what it is thou know's not. Even such Is all I know of thee—haply, brave youth, Is all Fate makes it safe for thee to know! BETh Len. Safe? safe? 0 let me then inherit danger, And it shall be my birth-right! saholt A (aside). That look again – The wood which first incloses, and then skirts The highest track that leads across the mountains— Thou know'st it, Bethlent Beta Len. Lady, 't was my wont

To roam there in my childhood oft alone,
And mutter to myself the name of father.
For still Bathory (why, till now I guess'd not)
would never hear it from my lips, but sighing
Gazed upward. Yet of late an idle terror——
Madam, that wood is haunted by the war-wolves,
Vampires, and monstrous——
sanolta (with a smile).
Moon-calves, credulous girl!
Haply some o'ergrown savage of the forest
Hath his lair there, and fear hath framed the rest.
[Then speaking again to Bethlen.
After that last great battle (O young man!
Thou wakest anew my life's sole anguish), that
which fixed Lord Emerick on his throne, Bathory
Led by a cry, far inward from the track,
In the hollow of an old oak, as in a nest,
Did find thee, Bethlen, then a helpless babe:
The robe, that wrapt thee, was a widow's mantle.
betti Len.
An infant's weakness doth relax my frame.
0 say—l fear to ask——
sano Lt.A.
And I to tell thee.
Betti Le N.
Strike! O strike quickly! See, I do not shrink.
[striking his breast.

I am stone, cold stone. sano Lt.A.

Hid in a brake hard by, Scaree by both palms supported from the earth, A wounded lady lay, whose life fast waning Seem'd to survive itself in her fixt eyes, That strain'd towards the babe. At length one arm Painfully from her own weight disengaging, She point d first to Heaven, then from her bosom Drew forth a golden casket. Thus entreated

! And I would seek her! for she is not dead
She can not die! O pardon, gracious lady;
You were about to say, that he return’d—
Deep Love, the godlike in us, still believes,
Its objects as immortal as itself!
Beth Le N.
And found her still—
Alas! he did return :
He left no spot unsearch'd in all the forest,
But she (I trust me by some friendly hand)
Had been borne off.
O whither?
GLY cine.
Dearest Bethlen'
I would that you could weep like me! O do not
Gaze so upon the air!
sanolra (continuing the story).
While he was absent,
A friendly troop, "t is certain, scour'd the wood,
Hotly pursued indeed by Emerick.
artin Lex.
Oh Hell!
Glycine (to silence him).
beth Len.
Hist! I'll curse him in a whisper'
This gracious lady must hear blessings only.
She hath not yet the glory round her head,
Nor those strong eagle wings, which made swift way
To that appointed place, which I must seek:
Or else she were my mother!
sa aolta.
Noble youth!
From me fear nothing! Long time have lowed

Thy faster-father took thee in his arms, And, kneeling, spake: If aught of this world's comfort Can reach thy heart, receive a poor man's troth, That at my life's risk I will save thy child' Her countenance work'd, as one that seem'd preparing A loud voice, but it died upon her lips In a faint whisper, . Fly! Save him! Ilide—hide all!" : perhizn. And did he leave her? What! had Î a mother? And left her bleeding, dying" Bought I vile life with the desertion of a dying mother? -** agony:

Alas! thou art bewilder'd,

And dost forget thou wert a helpless infant!

a tri-Lex. what else can I remember, but a mother Mangled and left to perish


Hush, Glycine!

It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct: Let it but lift itself to air and sunshine,

And it will find a mirror in the waters, It now makes boil above it. Check him not! both Lex. o that I were diffused among the waters That perce into the secret depths of earth, And find their way in darkness' would that I oull spread myself upon the homeless winds'

Offerings of expiation for misdeeds
Long pass'd that weigh me down, though innocent'
Tlav foster-father hid the secret from thee,
For he perceived thy thoughts as they expanded,
Proud, restless, and ill-sorting with thy state'
Wain was his care! Thou 'st made thyself suspected
'en where Suspicion reigns, and asks no proof
But its own fears! Great Nature hath endow'd thee
with her best gifts' From me thou shalt receive
All honourable aidance! But haste hence!
Travel will ripen thee, and enterprise
Beseems thy years! Be thou henceforth my soldier!
And whatsoe'er betide thee, still believe
That in each noble deed, achieved or suffer'd,
Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth!
And may the light that streams from thine own honour
Guide thee to that thou seekest'
Must he leave us?
artin LEN.

And for such goodness can I return nothing,
But some hot tears that sting mine eyes? Some sigh"
That if not breathed would swell my heart to stifling?
May Heaven and thine own virtues, high-born lady,
Be as a shield of fire, far, far aloof
To scare all evil from thee! Yet, if fate
Hath destined thee one doubtful hour of danger.
From the uttermost region of the earth, methinks,

Swift as a spirit invoked, I should be with thee!
And then, perchance, I might have power to unbosom
These thanks that struggle here. Eyes fair as thine
Have gazed on me with tears of love and anguish,
which these eyes saw not, or beheld unconscious;
And tones of anxious fondness, passionate prayers,
Have been talk"d to me! But this tongue ne'er sootled
A mother's ear, lisping a mother's name!
0 at how dear a price have I been loved,
And no love could return! One boon then, lady!
Where'er thou bid'st, I go thy faithful soldier,
But first must trace the spot, where she lay bleeding
Who gave me life. No more shall beast of ravine
Affront with baser spoil that sacred forest!
Or if avengers more than human haunt there,
Take they what shape they list, savage or heavenly,
They shall make answer to me, though my heart's

Should be the spell to bind them. Blood calls for blood!

[Exit BEThiex.


Ah! it was this I fear'd. To ward off this
Did I withhold from him that old Bathory
Returning, hid beneath the self same oak,
Where the babe lay, the mantle, and some jewel
Bound on his infant arm.

GLY cine. Oh, let me fly And stop him! Mangled limbs do there lie scatter'd Till the lured eagle bears them to her nest. And voices have been heard! And there the plant grows That being eaten gives the inhuman wizard Power to put on the fell hyaena's shape. s.Anot.T.A. What idle tongue hath witch'd thee, Glycine? I hoped that thou hadst learnt a nobler faith. Glycine. O chile me not, dear lady! question Laska, Or the old man. SAnot-ra. Forgive me, I spake harshly. It is indeed a mighty sorcery That doth enthral thy young heart, my poor girl: And what hath Laska told thee? GLY cine.

Three days past
A courier from the king did cross that wood;
A wilful man, that arm'd himself on purpose:

And never hath been heard of from that time !

[Sound of horns without.

SA Rolt A.

Hark! dost thou hear it?

T is the sound of horns! Our huntsmen are not out!

SARolt A. Lord Casimir Would not come thus ! [Horns again. GLYct NE. Still louder' SA ad lta.

Haste we hence For I believe in part thy tale of terror! But, trust me, ’tis the inner man transform'd : Beasts in the shape of men are worse than war-wolves. [Samolta and Glycine exeunt. Trumpets etc. louder.

Enter EMeRuck, Lond Rudolph, LAskA and Huntsmen and Attendants.

Rudolph. A gallant chace, Sire. rate Rick. Ave, but this new quarry That we last started seems worth all the rest. | Then to Laska. And you—excuse me—what's your name? LASKA. - Whatever Your Majesty may please. Extenick. Nay, that's too late, man. Say, what thy mother and thy godfather Were pleased to call thee! - LASKA. Laska, my liege Sovereign. rMorrick. Well, my liege subject Laska: Lord Casimir's steward? LASKA. And your majesty's creature. EME Rick. Two gentle dames made off at our approach. which was your lady ?

And you are

LAsk A. My liege lord, the taller. The other, please your grace, is her poor handmaid, Long since betrothed to me. But the maid's froward– Yet would your grace but speak— Exi Efkick. - Hum, master steward! I am honoured with this sudden confidence. Lead on. [To Laska, then to Rudolph. Lord Rudolph, you'll announce our coming. Greet fair Sarolta from me, and entreat her To be our gentle hostess. Mark, you add How much we grieve, that business of the state Hath forced us to delay her lord's return. Lond Rudolph (aside). Lewd, ingrate tyrant! Yes, I will announce thee. Extra ick. Now onward all. [Exeunt attendants. EMErick (solus). A fair one, by my faith: if her face rival but her gait and stature, My good friend Casimir had his reasons too. * Her tender health, her vow of strict retirement, Made early in the convent—his word pledged—All fictions, all! fictions of jealousy. Well! if the mountain move not to the prophet, The prophet must to the mountain. In this Laska There's somewhat of the knave mix’d up with dolt. Through the transparence of the fool, methought, I saw (as I could lay my finger on it) The crocodile's eye. that peer'd up from the bottom. This knave may do us service. Hot ambition Wom me the husband. Now let vanity And the resentment for a forced seclusion Decoy the wife! Let him be deem'd the aggressor Whose cunning and distrust began the game! [Exit.

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A savage wood. At one side a cavern, overhung with iny. Zapoly A and RAAB Kiu phili discovered: both, but especially the latter, in rude and savage garments. RAAB Riu Prail, i. Heard you then aught while I was slumbering? ZA Po LY.A. Nothing. Only your face became convulsed. We miserable! Is heaven's last mercy fled? Is sleep grown treacherous? RAAta Krupni Li. 0 for a sleep, for sleep itself to rest in I dreamt I had met with food beneath a tree, And I was seeking you, when all at once My feet became entangled in a net: Still more entangled as in rage I tore it. At length 1 freed myself, had sight of you, But as I hasten’d eagerly, again I found my frame encumber'd : a huge serpent Twined round my chest, but tightest round my throat. z A Po LY.A. Alas!'t was lack of food : for hunger chokes' R.A.A.d ri Upst 11.1. And now I saw you by a shrivell'd child Strangely pursued. You did not fly, yet neither Touch'd you the ground methought, but close above it Dil seem to shoot yourself along the air, And as you pass'd me, turn'd your face and shriek'd. 7. A pot. Y.A. I did in truth send forth a feeble shriek, Scarce knowing why. Perhaps the mock'd sense craved To hear the scream, which you but seein'd to utter. | For your whole face look'd like a mask of torture! Yet a child's image doth indeed pursue me Shrivell d with toil and penury! RAAB Kiu phill. Nay! what ails you ? 7. A poly A. A wonderous faintness there comes stealing o'er me. ls it Death's lengthening shadow, who comes onward, Life's setting sun behind him RAAB Ki U PRILI. Cheerly! The dusk Will quickly shroud us. Ere the moon be up, Trust me I'll bring thee food! ZApol. Y.A. Hunger's tooth has Gnawn itself blunt. O, I could queen it well O'er my own sorrows as my rightful subjects. But wherefore, o revered Kiuprili: wherefore Did my importunate prayers, my hopes and fancies, Force thee from thy secure though sad retreat? would that my tongue had then cloven to my mouth ! But Heaven is just! With tears 1 conquer'd thee, And not a tear is left me to repent with: Hadst thou not done already—hadst thou not Suffer'd—oh, more than e'er man feign'd of friendship? in AA to ki up to it, i. Yet be thou comforted ' What! hadst thou faith When I turn'd back incredulous? 'Twas thy light | That kindled mine. And shall it now go out, And leave thy soul in darkness? Yet look up,

And think thou see'st thy sainted lord commission'd
And on his way to aid us! Whence those late dreams,
which after such long interval of hopeless
And silent resignation, all at once
Night after night commanded thy return
lither? and still presented in clear vision
This wood as in a scene this very cavern?
Thou darest not doubt that Heaven's especial hand
Work'd in those signs. The hour of thy deliverance
Is on the stroke:—for Misery can not add
Grief to thy griefs, or Patience to thy sufferance!
zA polyA.
Can not! Oh, what if thou were taken from me?
Nay, thou saidst well: for that and death were one.
Life's grief is at its height indeed; the hard
Necessity of this inhuman state
Has made our deeds inhuman as our vestments.
Housed in this wild wood, with wild usages,
Danger our guest, and famine at our portal–
Wolf-like to prowl in the shepherd's fold by night!
At once for food and safety to affrighten
The traveller from his road—
[Glycine is heard singing without.
R.A.A.d kiupa i Li.

Hark! heard you not

A distant chaunt'

SONG, by Glycine.

A sunny shaft did I behold,
From sky to earth it slanted:

And poised therein a bird so bold—
Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted!

He sunk, he rose, he twinkled, he troll'd
Within that shaft of sunny mist;

His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,
All else of amethyst!

And thus he sang: - Adieu! adieu'
Love's dreams prove sclaom true.
The blossoms, they make no delay:
The sparkling dew-drops will not stay.
Sweet month of May,
We must away;
Far, far away!
To-day! to-day!”

zanoi, Y.A. Sure 'tis some blest spirit! For since thou slewest the usurper's emissary That plunged upon us, a more than mortal fear Is as a wall, that wards off the beleaguerer And starves the poor besieged. R.A.A.d ki up Rill. It is a maiden's voice! quick to the cave! z Apo LY.A. Hark! her voice faulters! p-AAh Ki Upril, i. She must not enter The cavern, else I will remain unseen [Krupaill retires to one side of the stage. Glycine enters singing. glycine (fearfully.) A savage place! saints shield me! Bethlen! Bethlen! Not here?—There's no one here! I'll sing again. [Sings again.

[Song again.

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