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(To Francois.)- Hence, Sir! Draw!

Fran. Art mad? the King's at hand! leave him to Richelieu!

Speak the despatch to whom

Fly-fly!

The King!

De Maup. Fare you well!

Save Julie, and console her.

(A few passes.)

Fran. (aside to Mauprat.) The Despatch!
Your fate, foes, life, hangs on a word! to whom?
De Maup. To Huguet.

Fran. Hush-keep council! silence - hope!

[Exeunt MAUPRAT and Guard.

Bar. (aside to Francois.) Has he the packet?

Fran. He will not reveal

(Aside.) Work, brain! beat heart! "There's no such word as fail.

Fran. O! my Lord!

Rich. Thou art bleeding!

Fran. A scratch - I have not fail'd! [gives the packet.

Rich. Hush! [looking at the contents.

Third Secretary, (to KING.) Sire, the Spaniards

Have reinforced their army on the frontiers,

The Duc de Bouillon

Rich. Hold! In this department

A paper-here, Sire, read yourself-then take
The Count's advice in't.

Enter DE BERINGHEN hastily, and draws aside Baradas.

(RICHELIEU, to Secretary, giving an open parchment.)

Bar. (bursting from DE BERINGHEN.) What! and reft it! from thee!

Ha!-hold!

Joseph. Fall back; son, it is your turn now!

Bar. Death!-The Despatch!

Louis. (reading.) To Bouillon - and sign'd Orleans!
Baradas too-league with our foes of Spain! -
Lead our Italian armies-what! to Paris!

Capture the King - my health requires repose!

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Make me subscribe my proper abdication!

Orleans, my brother, Regent! Saints of Heaven!

These are the men I loved! [BARADAS draws, attempts to rush

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out, is arrested. ORLEANS, endeavoring to escape more quickly, meets JOSEPH's eye, and stops short.

RICHELIEU falls back.

Joseph. See to the Cardinal!

Bar. He's dying! - and I yet shall dupe the King!

Louis. (rushing to RICHELIEU.) Richelieu!-Lord Cardinal! —'tis

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The army-Orleans-Bouillon -Heavens! the Spaniard!

Where will they be next week!·

Rich. (starting up.) There,

at my feet!

(To First and Second Secretary.) Ere the clock strike! — The Envoys have their answer!

(To Third Secretary, with a ring.) This to De Chavigny - he knows

the rest

No need of parchment here - he must not halt

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Of his army! Ho! there, Count de Baradas
Thou hast lost the stake! — Away with him!
Ha!-ha!

[Snatching DE MAUPRAT's death warrant from the Officer. See here, De Mauprat's death-writ, Julie!

Parchment for battledores - Embrace your husband!
At last the old man blesses you!

Julie. O joy!

You are saved, you live

I hold you in these arms.

De Maup. Never to part

Julie. No- never, Adrien - never!

Louis. (peevishly.) One moment makes a startling cure, Lord Cardinal.

Rich. Ay, Sire, for in one moment there did pass

Into this wither'd frame the might of France! —

My own dear France - I have thee yet-I have saved thee! it was thy voice that call'd me

-

I clasp thee still!
Back from the tomb!

What mistress like our country?

Louis. For Mauprat's pardon! - well! But Julie, Richelieu ! Leave me one thing to love!

Rich. A subject's luxury!

Yet, if you must love something, Sire,

love me?

Louis. (smiling in spite of himself.) Fair proxy for a young fresh Demoiselle!

Rich. Your heart speaks for my clients:- kneel, my children, And thank your King

Julie. Ah, tears like these, my liege,

Are dews that mount to Heaven.

Louis. Rise rise. be happy.

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[RICHELIEU beckons to DE BERINGHEN.

De Ber. (falteringly.) My Lord

- you are most happily recover'd

Rich. But you are pale, dear Beringhen: - this air
I long have thought so.

Suits not your delicate frame

-

Sleep not another night in Paris : — Go,

-

Or else your precious life may be in danger.
Leave France, dear Beringhen!

[Exit.

(To ORLEANS.) For you, repentance absence, and confession! (To FRANCOIS.) Never say fail again. Brave Boy! (To Louis, as DE MAUPRAT and JULIE converse apart.) See, my liege see thro' plots and counterplots Thro' gain and loss

-

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thro' glory and disgrace — Along the plains, where passionate Discord rears Eternal Babel - still the holy stream

Of human happiness glides on!

Louis. And must we

Thank for that also

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Rich. No let us own it: there is ONE above

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Ev'n better than prime ministers.

Alas!

Our glories float between the earth and heaven
Like clouds that seem pavilions of the sun,
And are the play things of the casual wind;
Still, like the cloud which drops on unseen crags
The dews the wild flower feeds on, our ambition
May from its airy height drop gladness down
On unsuspected virtue; and the flower
May bless the cloud when it hath pass'd away.

Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer.

A Scotch Lady of the Old School.

As soon as she recognized Mr. Douglas, she welcomed him with much cordiality, shook him long and heartily by the hand, patted him on the back, looked into his face with much seeming satisfaction; and, in short, gave all the demonstration of gladness usual with gentlewomen of a certain age. Her pleasure, however, appeared to be rather an impromptu than a habitual feeling; for, as the surprise wore off, her visage resumed its harsh and sarcastic expression, and she seemed eager to efface any agreeable impression her reception might have excited.

"And wha thought o' seein' ye enoo?" said she, in a quick, gabbling voice; "what's brought you to the toon? Are you come to spend your honest faither's siller ere he's weel cauld in his grave, puir man?"

Mr. Douglas explained that it was on account of his niece's

health.

"Health!" repeated she, with a sardonic smile, "it wad make an ool laugh to hear the wark that 's made aboot yonng fowk's health noo-a-days. I wonder what ye 're a' made o'," grasping Mary's arm in her great bony hand- -"a wheen puir feckless windlestraesye maun awa' to Ingland for your healths. Set ye up! I wonder what cam o' the lasses i' my time that bute [behoved] to bide at hame? And whilk o' ye, I sude like to ken, 'll e'er leive to see ninety-sax, like me. Health! he, he!"

Mary, glad of a pretense to indulge the mirth the old lady's manner and appearance had excited, joined most heartily in the laugh.

“Tak aff yer bannet, bairn, an' let me see your face; wha can tell what like ye are wi' that snule o' a thing on your head?" Then after taking an accurate survey of her face, she pushed aside her pelisse: "Weel its ae mercy I see ye hae neither the red head nor the muckle cuits o' the Douglases. I kenna whuther your faither has them or no. I ne'er set een on him: neither him nor his braw leddy thought it worth their while to speer after me; but I was at nae loss, by a' accounts."

"You have not asked after any of your Glenfern friends," said Mr. Douglas, hoping to touch a more sympathetic chord. wull ye let me draw my breath, man

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"Time enough canna say awthing at ance.

a Scotch lass wadna ser' ye. the warlds wonders

fowk

An' ye bute to hae an Inglish wife tu,

An' yer wean, I 'se warran' it ane o' it's been unca long o' comin' - he, he! "He has begun life under very melancholy auspices, poor fellow!" said Mr. Douglas, in allusion to his father's death.

"An' wha's faut was that? I ne'er heard tell o' the like o't, to hae the bairn kirsened an' its grandfaither dein'! But fowk are naither born, nor kirsened, nor do they wed or dee as they used to du-awthing 's changed."

"You must indeed, have witnessed many changes?" observed Mr. Douglas rather at a loss how to utter any thing of a concilia. tory nature.

"Changes!-weel a wat I sometimes wonder if it's the same warld, an' if it's my ain heed that 's upon my shoothers."

"But with these changes you must also have seen many improvements?" said Mary in a tone of diffidence.

"Impruvments?" turning sharply round upon her; "what ken ye about impruvements bairn? A bonny impruvement, or ens no, to see tyleyors and sclaters leavin' whar I mind jewks and yerls. An' that great glowerin' New Toon there," pointing out of her windows, "whar I used to sit an' look out at bonny green parks, an' see the coos milket, an' the bits o' bairnies rowin' an' tumlin', an' the lasses trampin' i̇' their tubs — what see I noo but stane an' lime, an' stoor an' dirt, an' idle cheels an' dinkit out madams prancin'. Impruvements, indeed."

Mary found she was not likely to advance her uncle's fortune by the judiciousness of her remarks, therefore prudently resolved to hazard no more. Mr. Douglas, who was more au fait to the preju

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