SAROL. So doth the ignorant distance still delude us! Thy fancied heaven, dear girl, like that above thee, In its mere self a cold, drear, colorless void, Seen from below and in the large, becomes The bright blue ether, and the seat of gods! Well! but this broil that scared you from the dance? And was not Laska there: he, your betrothed? GLY. Yes, madam! he was there. So was the My own dear lady wished it! 'twas you asked me! may SAROL. Yes, at my lord's request, but never wished My poor affectionate girl, to see thee wretched. Thou know'st not yet the duties of a wife. GLY. Oh, yes! It is a wife's chief duty, madam! To stand in awe of her husband, and obey him, And, I am sure, I never shall see Laska But I shall tremble. SAROL. Not with fear, I think, For you still mock him. cottage! Bring a seat from the (Exit GLYCINE into the Cottage, SAROLTA continues her Speech looking after her.) Something above thy rank there hangs about thee, A fine and feminine grace, that makes me feel Or there's no faith in instinct! [Angry voices and clamour without, re-enter GLYCINE. GLY. Oh, madam! there's a party of your servants, 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, Pray don't believe them, madam! This way! This What needs your presence? BATH. What! Do you think I'll suffer my brave boy To be slandered by a set of coward-ruffians, And leave it to their malice,-yes, mere malice!- [LASKA and Servants bow to LADY SAROLTA. SAROL. LAS. (pompously, as commencing a set speech.) Madam! and may it please your ladyship! This old man's son, by name, Bethlen Bathory, The lord high steward of the realm, moreover- LAS. And moreover Raved like a traitor at our liege King Emerick. Led on the assault upon his lordship's servants; Yea, insolently tore, from this, your huntsman, And trampled it in scorn. SAROL. (to the servants who offer to speak.) You have had your spokesman ! Where is the young man thus accused? BATH But if no ill betide him on the mountains, He will not long be absent! SAROL. I know not: Thou art his father? BATH. 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, Witness'd the affray, besides these men of malice; And if I swerve from truth BATH. My tale is brief. During our festive dance, Your servants, the accusers of my son, Offered gross insults, in unmanly sort, To our village maidens. He, (could he do less?) SAROL. Old man! you talk Too bluntly! Did your son owe no respect To the livery of our house? BATH. Even such respect As the sheep's skin should gain for the hot wolf That hath began to worry the poor lambs! LAS. Old insolent ruffian! GLY. Pardon! pardon, madam! I saw the whole affray. The good old man Means no offence, sweet lady!-You, yourself, Laska! know well, that these men were the ruffians! |