Chapter 150

_A Mountainous Country. BATHORY'S Dwelling at the end of the Stage. Enter LADY SAROLTA and GLYCINE._

_Glycine._ Well then! our round of charity is finished. Rest, Madam! You breathe quick.

_Sarolta._ What, tired, Glycine? No delicate court-dame, but a mountaineer By choice no less than birth, I gladly use The good strength Nature gave me.

_Glycine._ That last cottage 5 Is built as if an eagle or a raven Had chosen it for her nest.

_Sarolta._ So many are The sufferings which no human aid can reach, It needs must be a duty doubly sweet To heal the few we can. Well! let us rest. 10

_Glycine._ There? [_Pointing to BATHORY'S dwelling._

_Sarolta._ Here! For on this spot Lord Casimir Took his last leave. On yonder mountain-ridge I lost the misty image which so long Lingered, or seemed at least to linger on it.

_Glycine._ And what if even now, on that same ridge, 15 A speck should rise, and still enlarging, lengthening, As it clomb downwards, shape itself at last To a numerous cavalcade, and spurring foremost, Who but Sarolta's own dear lord returned From his high embassy?

_Sarolta._ Thou hast hit my thought! 20 All the long day, from yester-morn to evening, The restless hope fluttered about my heart. Oh we are querulous creatures! Little less Than all things can suffice to make us happy; And little more than nothing is enough 25 To discontent us.--Were he come, then should I Repine he had not arrived just one day earlier To keep his birth-day here, in his own birth-place.

_Glycine._ But our best sports belike, and gay processions Would to my lord have seemed but work-day sights 30 Compared with those the royal court affords.

_Sarolta._ I have small wish to see them. A spring morning With its wild gladsome minstrelsy of birds And its bright jewelry of flowers and dew-drops (Each orbéd drop an orb of glory in it) 35 Would put them all in eclipse. This sweet retirement Lord Casimir's wish alone would have made sacred: But, in good truth, his loving jealousy Did but command, what I had else entreated.

_Glycine._ And yet had I been born Lady Sarolta, 40 Been wedded to the noblest of the realm, So beautiful besides, and yet so stately----

_Sarolta._ Hush! Innocent flatterer!

_Glycine._ Nay! to my poor fancy The royal court would seem an earthly heaven, Made for such stars to shine in, and be gracious. 45

_Sarolta._ So doth the ignorant distance still delude us! Thy fancied heaven, dear girl, like that above thee, In its mere self cold, drear, colourless void, Seen from below and in the large, becomes The bright blue ether, and the seat of gods! 50 Well! but this broil that scared you from the dance? And was not Laska there: he, your betrothed?

_Glycine._ Yes, madam! he was there. So was the maypole, For we danced round it.

_Sarolta._ Ah, Glycine! why, Why did you then betroth yourself?

_Glycine._ Because 55 My own dear lady wished it! 'twas you asked me!

_Sarolta._ Yes, at my lord's request, but never wished, My poor affectionate girl, to see thee wretched. Thou knowest not yet the duties of a wife.

_Glycine._ Oh, yes! It is a wife's chief duty, madam! 60 To stand in awe of her husband, and obey him, And, I am sure, I never shall see Laska But I shall tremble.

_Sarolta._ Not with fear, I think, For you still mock him. Bring a seat from the cottage.

[_Exit GLYCINE into the cottage, SAROLTA continues her speech looking after her._

Something above thy rank there hangs about thee, 65 And in thy countenance, thy voice, and motion, Yea, e'en in thy simplicity, Glycine, A fine and feminine grace, that makes me feel More as a mother than a mistress to thee! Thou art a soldier's orphan! that--the courage, 70 Which rising in thine eye, seems oft to give A new soul to its gentleness, doth prove thee! Thou art sprung too of no ignoble blood, Or there's no faith in instinct!

[_Angry voices and clamour within._

_Re-enter GLYCINE._

_Glycine._ Oh, madam! there's a party of your servants, 75 And my lord's steward, Laska, at their head, Have come to search for old Bathory's son, Bethlen, that brave young man! 'twas he, my lady, That took our parts, and beat off the intruders, And in mere spite and malice, now they charge him 80 With bad words of Lord Casimir and the king. Pray don't believe them, madam! This way! This way! Lady Sarolta's here.-- [_Calling without._

_Sarolta._ Be calm, Glycine.

_Enter LASKA and_ Servants _with OLD BATHORY._

_Laska (to Bathory)._ We have no concern with you! What needs your presence?

_Old Bathory._ What! Do you think I'll suffer my brave boy 85 To be slandered by a set of coward-ruffians, And leave it to their malice,--yes, mere malice!-- To tell its own tale?

[_LASKA and_ Servants _bow to Lady SAROLTA._

_Sarolta._ Laska! What may this mean?

_Laska._ Madam! and may it please your ladyship! This old man's son, by name Bethlen Bathory, 90 Stands charged, on weighty evidence, that he, On yester-eve, being his lordship's birth-day, Did traitorously defame Lord Casimir: The lord high steward of the realm, moreover----

_Sarolta._ Be brief! We know his titles!

_Laska._ And moreover 95 Raved like a traitor at our liege King Emerick. And furthermore, said witnesses make oath, Led on the assault upon his lordship's servants; Yea, insolently tore, from this, your huntsman, His badge of livery of your noble house, 100 And trampled it in scorn.

_Sarolta (to the Servants who offer to speak)._ You have had your spokesman! Where is the young man thus accused?

_Old Bathory._ I know not: But if no ill betide him on the mountains, He will not long be absent!

_Sarolta._ Thou art his father? 105

_Old Bathory._ None ever with more reason prized a son; Yet I hate falsehood more than I love him. But more than one, now in my lady's presence, Witnessed the affray, besides these men of malice; And if I swerve from truth----

_Glycine._ Yes! good old man! 110 My lady! pray believe him!

_Sarolta._ Hush, Glycine Be silent, I command you. [_Then to BATHORY._ Speak! we hear you!

_Old Bathory._ My tale is brief. During our festive dance, Your servants, the accusers of my son, Offered gross insults, in unmanly sort, 115 To our village maidens. He (could he do less?) Rose in defence of outraged modesty, And so persuasive did his cudgel prove, (Your hectoring sparks so over-brave to women Are always cowards) that they soon took flight, 120 And now in mere revenge, like baffled boasters, Have framed this tale, out of some hasty words Which their own threats provoked.

_Sarolta._ Old man! you talk Too bluntly! Did your son owe no respect To the livery of our house?

_Old Bathory._ Even such respect 125 As the sheep's skin should gain for the hot wolf That hath begun to worry the poor lambs!

_Laska._ Old insolent ruffian!

_Glycine._ Pardon! pardon, madam! I saw the whole affray. The good old man Means no offence, sweet lady!--You, yourself, 130 Laska! know well, that these men were the ruffians! Shame on you!

_Sarolta._ What! Glycine? Go, retire! [_Exit GLYCINE._ Be it then that these men faulted. Yet yourself, Or better still belike the maidens' parents, Might have complained to us. Was ever access 135 Denied you? Or free audience? Or are we Weak and unfit to punish our own servants?

_Old Bathory._ So then! So then! Heaven grant an old man patience! And must the gardener leave his seedling plants, Leave his young roses to the rooting swine 140 While he goes ask their master, if perchance His leisure serve to scourge them from their ravage?

_Laska._ Ho! Take the rude clown from your lady's presence! I will report her further will!

_Sarolta._ Wait then, Till thou hast learnt it! Fervent good old man! 145 Forgive me that, to try thee, I put on A face of sternness, alien to my meaning!

[_Then speaks to the_ Servants.

Hence! leave my presence! and you, Laska! mark me! Those rioters are no longer of my household! If we but shake a dewdrop from a rose 150 In vain would we replace it, and as vainly Restore the tear of wounded modesty To a maiden's eye familiarized to licence.-- But these men, Laska--

_Laska (aside)._ Yes, now 'tis coming.

_Sarolta._ Brutal aggressors first, then baffled dastards, 155 That they have sought to piece out their revenge With a tale of words lured from the lips of anger Stamps them most dangerous; and till I want Fit means for wicked ends, we shall not need Their services. Discharge them! You, Bathory! 160 Are henceforth of my household! I shall place you Near my own person. When your son returns, Present him to us!

_Old Bathory._ Ha! what strangers here! [906:1]What business have they in an old man's eye? Your goodness, lady--and it came so sudden-- 165 I can not--must not--let you be deceived. I have yet another tale, but-- [_Then to SAROLTA aside._ not for all ears!

_Sarolta._ I oft have passed your cottage, and still praised Its beauty, and that trim orchard-plot, whose blossoms The gusts of April showered aslant its thatch. 170 Come, you shall show it me! And, while you bid it Farewell, be not ashamed that I should witness The oil of gladness glittering on the water Of an ebbing grief. [_BATHORY shows her into his cottage._

_Laska (alone)._ Vexation! baffled! school'd! Ho! Laska! wake! why? what can all this mean? 175 She sent away that cockatrice in anger! Oh the false witch! It is too plain, she loves him. And now, the old man near my lady's person, She'll see this Bethlen hourly!

[_LASKA flings himself into the seat. GLYCINE peeps in._

_Glycine._ Laska! Laska! Is my lady gone?

_Laska._ Gone.

_Glycine._ Have you yet seen him? 180 Is he returned? [_LASKA starts up._ Has the seat stung you, Laska?

_Laska._ No, serpent! no; 'tis you that sting me; you! What! you would cling to him again?

_Glycine._ Whom?

_Laska._ Bethlen! Bethlen! Yes; gaze as if your very eyes embraced him! 185 Ha! you forget the scene of yesterday! Mute ere he came, but then--Out on your screams, And your pretended fears!

_Glycine._ Your fears, at least, Were real, Laska! or your trembling limbs And white cheeks played the hypocrites most vilely! 190

_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! 195 Yet, yet, pray tell me!

_Laska._ You will know too soon.

_Glycine._ Would I could find my lady! though she chid me-- Yet this suspense-- [_Going._

_Laska._ Stop! stop! one question only-- I am quite calm--

_Glycine._ Ay, as the old song says, Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove. 200 Nay now, I have marred the verse: well! this one question--

_Laska._ Are you not bound to me by your own promise? And is it not as plain--

_Glycine._ Halt! that's two questions.

_Laska._ Pshaw! Is it not as plain as impudence, That you're in love with this young swaggering beggar, 205 Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused, Why pressed you forward? Why did you defend him?

_Glycine._ 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? 210

_Laska._ So then, you say, Lady Sarolta, forced you?

_Glycine._ 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 215 Must needs have sounded to me as commands? And as for love, had I a score of loves, I'd keep them all for my dear, kind, good mistress.

_Laska._ Not one for Bethlen?

_Glycine._ Oh! that's a different thing. To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious 220 To his good old father. But for loving him-- Nay, there, indeed 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, 225 And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt That the war-wolf[908:1] had gored him as he hunted In the haunted forest!

_Laska._ You dare own all this? Your lady will not warrant promise-breach. Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I'll make you 230 Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odd's, my fingers Tingle already! [_Makes threatening signs._

_Glycine (aside)._ Ha! Bethlen coming this way!

[_GLYCINE then cries out._

Oh, save me! save me! Pray don't kill me, Laska!

_Enter BETHLEN in a Hunting Dress._

_Bethlen._ What, beat a woman!

_Laska (to Glycine)._ O you cockatrice!

_Bethlen._ Unmanly dastard, hold!

_Laska._ Do you chance to know 235 Who--I--am, Sir?--('Sdeath! how black he looks!)

_Bethlen._ 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.

_Glycine._ No, not my master yet, 240 But only is to be; and all, because Two years ago my lady asked me, and I promised her, not him; and if she'll let me, I'll hate you, my lord's steward.

_Bethlen._ Hush, Glycine!

_Glycine._ Yes, I do, Bethlen; for he just now brought 245 False witnesses to swear away your life: Your life, and old Bathory's too.

_Bethlen._ Bathory's! Where is my father? Answer, or----Ha! gone!

[_LASKA during this time retires from the Stage._

_Glycine._ Oh, heed not him! I saw you pressing onward, And did but feign alarm. Dear gallant youth, 250 It is your life they seek!

_Bethlen._ My life?

_Glycine._ Alas, Lady Sarolta even--

_Bethlen._ She does not know me!

_Glycine._ Oh that she did! she could not then have spoken With such stern countenance. But though she spurn me, I will kneel, Bethlen--

_Bethlen._ Not for me, Glycine! 255 What have I done? or whom have I offended?

_Glycine._ Rash words, 'tis said, and treasonous of the king.

[_BETHLEN mutters to himself._

_Glycine (aside)._ So looks the statue, in our hall, o' the god, The shaft just flown that killed the serpent!

_Bethlen._ King!

_Glycine._ Ah, often have I wished you were a king. 260 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 killed in the forest; and then Laska 265 Would have no right to rail at me, nor say (Yes, the base man, he says,) that I--I love you.

_Bethlen._ Pretty Glycine! wert thou not betrothed-- But in good truth I know not what I speak. This luckless morning I have been so haunted 270 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?

_Glycine._ Hist! 'tis my lady's step! She must not see you!

[_BETHLEN retires._

_Enter from the Cottage SAROLTA and BATHORY._

_Sarolta._ Go, seek your son! I need not add, be speedy-- 275 You here, Glycine? [_Exit BATHORY._

_Glycine._ Pardon, pardon, Madam! If you but saw the old man's son, you would not, You could not have him harmed.

_Sarolta._ Be calm, Glycine!

_Glycine._ No, I shall break my heart.

_Sarolta._ Ha! is it so? O strange and hidden power of sympathy, 280 That of--like fates, though all unknown to each, Dost make blind instincts, orphan's heart to orphan's Drawing by dim disquiet!

_Glycine._ Old Bathory--

_Sarolta._ Seeks his brave son. Come, wipe away thy tears. Yes, in good truth, Glycine, this same Bethlen 285 Seems a most noble and deserving youth.

_Glycine._ My lady does not mock me?

_Sarolta._ Where is Laska? Has he not told thee?

_Glycine._ Nothing. In his fear-- Anger, I mean--stole off--I am so fluttered-- Left me abruptly--

_Sarolta._ His shame excuses him! 290 He is somewhat hardly tasked; and in discharging His own tools, cons a lesson for himself. Bathory and the youth henceforward live Safe in my lord's protection.

_Glycine._ The saints bless you! Shame on my graceless heart! How dared I fear, 295 Lady Sarolta could be cruel?

_Sarolta._ Come, Be yourself, girl!

_Glycine._ O, 'tis so full here! And now it can not harm him if I tell you, That the old man's son--

_Sarolta._ Is not that old man's son! A destiny, not unlike thine own, is his. 300 For all I know of thee is, that thou art A soldier's orphan: left when rage intestine[911:1] Shook and engulphed the pillars of Illyria. This other fragment, thrown back by that same earthquake, This, so mysteriously inscribed by nature, 305 Perchance may piece out and interpret thine. Command thyself! Be secret! His true father---- Hear'st thou?

_Glycine._ O tell--

_Bethlen (rushing out)._ Yes, tell me, Shape from heaven! Who is my father?

_Sarolta (gazing with surprise)._ Thine? Thy father? Rise!

_Glycine._ Alas! He hath alarmed you, my dear lady! 310

_Sarolta._ His countenance, not his act!

_Glycine._ 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 315 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!

_Sarolta._ By that blest Heaven I gazed at, I know not who thou art. And if I knew, 320 Dared I--But rise!

_Bethlen._ Blest spirits of my parents, Ye hover o'er me now! Ye shine upon me! And like a flower that coils forth from a ruin, I feel and seek the light I can not see!

_Sarolta._ Thou see'st yon dim spot on the mountain's ridge, 325 But what it is thou know'st not. Even such Is all I know of thee--haply, brave youth, Is all Fate makes it safe for thee to know!

_Bethlen._ Safe? Safe? O let me then inherit danger, And it shall be my birth-right!

_Sarolta (aside)._ That look again!-- 330 The wood which first incloses, and then skirts The highest track that leads across the mountains-- Thou know'st it, Bethlen?

_Bethlen._ Lady, 'twas my wont To roam there in my childhood oft alone And mutter to myself the name of father. 335 For still Bathory (why, till now I guessed not) Would never hear it from my lips, but sighing Gazed upward. Yet of late an idle terror----

_Glycine._ Madam, that wood is haunted by the war-wolves, Vampires, and monstrous----

_Sarolta._ Moon-calves, credulous girl! 340 Haply some o'ergrown savage of the forest Hath his lair there, and fear hath framed the rest. 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 345 Led by a cry, far inward from the track, In the hollow of an oak, as in a nest, Did find thee, Bethlen, then a helpless babe. The robe that wrapt thee was a widow's mantle.

_Bethlen._ An infant's weakness doth relax my frame. 350 O say--I fear to ask----

_Sarolta._ And I to tell thee.

_Bethlen._ Strike! O strike quickly! See, I do not shrink. I am stone, cold stone.

_Sarolta._ Hid in a brake hard by, Scarce by both palms supported from the earth, A wounded lady lay, whose life fast waning 355 Seemed to survive itself in her fixt eyes, That strained towards the babe. At length one arm Painfully from her own weight disengaging, She pointed first to heaven, then from her bosom Drew forth a golden casket. Thus entreated 360 Thy foster-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 worked, as one that seemed preparing 365 A loud voice, but it died upon her lips In a faint whisper, 'Fly! Save him! Hide--hide all!'

_Bethlen._ And did he leave her? What! had I a mother? And left her bleeding, dying? Bought I vile life With the desertion of a dying mother? 370 Oh agony!

_Glycine._ Alas! thou art bewildered, And dost forget thou wert a helpless infant!

_Bethlen._ What else can I remember, but a mother Mangled and left to perish?

_Sarolta._ Hush, Glycine! It is the ground-swell of a teeming instinct: 375 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!

_Bethlen._ O that I were diffused among the waters That pierce into the secret depths of earth, 380 And find their way in darkness! Would that I Could spread myself upon the homeless winds! 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 returned-- 385

_Sarolta._ Deep Love, the godlike in us, still believes Its objects as immortal as itself!

_Bethlen._ And found her still--

_Sarolta._ Alas! he did return, He left no spot unsearched in all the forest, But she (I trust me by some friendly hand) 390 Had been borne off.

_Bethlen._ O whither?

_Glycine._ Dearest Bethlen! I would that you could weep like me! O do not Gaze so upon the air!

_Sarolta._ While he was absent, A friendly troop, 'tis certain, scoured the wood, Hotly pursued indeed by Emerick.

_Bethlen._ Emerick. 395 Oh hell!

_Glycine._ Bethlen!

_Bethlen._ 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 make swift way To that appointed place, which I must seek; 400 Or else she were my mother!

_Sarolta._ Noble youth! From me fear nothing! Long time have I owed Offerings of expiation for misdeeds Long past that weigh me down, though innocent! Thy foster-father hid the secret from thee, 405 For he perceived thy thoughts as they expanded, Proud, restless, and ill-sorting with thy state! Vain was his care! Thou'st made thyself suspected E'en where suspicion reigns, and asks no proof But its own fears! Great Nature hath endowed thee 410 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 415 That in each noble deed, achieved or suffered, Thou solvest best the riddle of thy birth! And may the light that streams from thine own honour Guide thee to that thou seekest!

_Glycine._ Must he leave us?

_Bethlen._ And for such goodness can I return nothing 420 But some hot tears that sting mine eyes? Some sighs 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 425 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 430 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 talked to me! But this tongue ne'er soothed A mother's ear, lisping a mother's name! 435 O, at how dear a price have I been loved And no love could return! One boon then, lady! Where'er thou bidd'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 440 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 blood Should be the spell to bind them. Blood calls for blood! 445

[_Exit Bethlen._

_Sarolta._ Ah! it was this I feared. 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.

_Glycine._ Oh, let me fly 450 And stop him! Mangled limbs do there lie scattered 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 hyæna's shape. 455

_Sarolta._ What idle tongue hath bewitched thee, Glycine? I hoped that thou had'st learnt a nobler faith.

_Glycine._ O chide me not, dear lady; question Laska, Or the old man.

_Sarolta._ Forgive me, I spake harshly. It is indeed a mighty sorcery 460 That doth enthral thy young heart, my poor girl, And what hath Laska told thee?

_Glycine._ Three days past A courier from the king did cross that wood; A wilful man, that armed himself on purpose: And never hath been heard of from that time! 465

[_Sound of horns without._

_Sarolta._ Hark! dost thou hear it!

_Glycine._ 'Tis the sound of horns! Our huntsmen are not out!

_Sarolta._ Lord Casimir Would not come thus! [_Horns again._

_Glycine._ Still louder!

_Sarolta._ Haste we hence! For I believe in part thy tale of terror! But, trust me, 'tis the inner man transformed: 470 Beasts in the shape of men are worse than war-wolves.

[_SAROLTA and GLYCINE exeunt. Trumpets, &c. louder. Enter EMERICK, LORD RUDOLPH, LASKA, and_ Huntsmen _and_ Attendants.

_Rudolph._ A gallant chase, sire.

_Emerick._ Aye, 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.

_Emerick._ Nay, that's too late, man. 475 Say, what thy mother and thy godfather Were pleased to call thee.

_Laska._ Laska, my liege sovereign.

_Emerick._ Well, my liege subject, Laska! And you are Lord Casimir's steward?

_Laska._ And your majesty's creature.

_Emerick._ Two gentle dames made off at our approach. 480 Which was your lady?

_Laska_ 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--

_Emerick._ Hum, master steward! I am honoured with this sudden confidence. 485 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. 490

_Lord Rudolph (aside)._ Lewd, ingrate tyrant! Yes, I will announce thee.

_Emerick._ Now onward all. [_Exeunt attendants._ 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, 495 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 mixed up with dolt. 500 Through the transparence of the fool, methought, I saw (as I could lay my finger on it) The crocodile's eye, that peered up from the bottom. This knave may do us service. Hot ambition Won me the husband. Now let vanity 505 And the resentment for a forced seclusion Decoy the wife! Let him be deemed the aggressor Whose cunning and distrust began the game! [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[906:1] This line was borrowed unconsciously from the Excursion. ['Why should a tear be in an old man's eye?' _Excursion_, Bk. I, l. 598 (1814).]

Refers (i. e. 'strangers' in l. 163) to the tears which he feels starting in his eye. The following line was borrowed from Mr. Wordsworth's Excursion. _1817_, _1828_, _1829_.

[908:1] For the best account of the War-wolf or Lycanthropus, see Drayton's _Moon-calf_, Chalmers' English Poets, vol. iv, p. 133.

[911:1]

In the English dramatic Iambic pentameter, a ¯ and hypera-catalectic, [_sic_] the arsis strengthened by the emphasis (in which our blank verse differs from the Greek Prosody, which acknowledges no influence from emphasis) and assisted by the following caesura, permits the licence of an amphimacer ¯ ˘ ¯ for a spondee ¯ ¯: the intermediate ˘ being sucked up. Thus,

¯ ˘ ¯ orphan: left:--

and still more easily an amphibrach for a spondee.

This oth | er fragment | thrown back, &c. ˘ ¯ | ˘ ¯ ˘ | ˘ ¯

[MS. note by S. T. C. in copy of first Edition to lines 302 and 304. In the text 'órphan' and 'frágment' are marked with an accent.]

LINENOTES:

[11] [_Pointing to BATHORY'S dwelling. SAROLTA answering, points to where she then stands._

[56] _you_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[After 74] [_Angry voices and clamour without._ 1817.

[Before 89] _Laska (pompously, as commencing a set speech)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[132] _Sarolta (speaks with affected anger)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[After 132] [_Exit GLYCINE, mournfully._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[135] _us_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[174]

Of an ebbing grief. [_BATHORY bowing, shows, &c._

1817, 1828, 1829.

[179]

She'll see . . . hourly. [_LASKA . . . peeps in timidly._

1817, 1828, 1829.

[180] _Laska (surlily)._ Gone. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[181]

Is he returned? [_LASKA starts up from his seat._

1817, 1828, 1829.

[188] _Your_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[191] I should] _I_ should 1817, 1828, 1829.

[196] _Laska (malignantly)._ You, &c. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[207] _you_: _you_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[209] _you_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[211] _forced_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[221] _loving_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[222] _there_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[223] _grieve_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[Before 233] [_GLYCINE then cries out as if afraid of being beaten._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[235] _Laska (pompously)._ Do you, &c. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[241] _is_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[243] _her_: _him_: _she'll_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[After 248] [_LASKA during this time slinks off the Stage, using threatening gestures to GLYCINE._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[249] _him_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[251] _your_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[After 257] [_BETHLEN mutters to himself indignantly._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[Before 259] _Bethlen (muttering aside)._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[279]

_Glycine._ No . . . heart. [_Sobbing._

_Sarolta (taking her hand)._ Ha! &c.

1817, 1828, 1829.

[297]

O, 'tis so full _here_. [_At her heart._

1817, 1828, 1829.

[299] _not_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[301] _thee_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[308]

_Glycine (eagerly)._ O tell--

_Bethlen (who had overheard the last few words, now rushes out)._ Yes, &c.

1817, 1828, 1829.

[309] _Thy_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[340] _Sarolta (with a smile)._ Moon-calves, &c. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[After 342] [_Then speaking again to BETHLEN._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[After 352] [_Striking his breast._ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[384] _can not_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[393] _Sarolta (continuing the story)._ While, &c. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[396] _Glycine (to silence him)._ Bethlen! 1817, 1828, 1829.

[401] _she_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[414] _my_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[456] _thee_ 1817, 1828, 1847.

[467] _Our_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[480] _Two_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[492] _Emerick (solus)._ A fair, &c. 1817, 1828, 1829.

[494] _his_ 1817, 1828, 1829.

[495-6] '_Her tender . . . pledged_--' 1817, 1828, 1829.

[After 508] END OF ACT I 1817.