Excerpt
ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. A GOTHIC HALL.
Enter Edric and Birtha.
Bir. What may this mean? Earl Douglas has enjoin'd thee To meet him here in private? Edr. Yes, my sister, And this injunction I have oft receiv'd; But when he comes, big with some painful secret, He starts, looks wild, then drops ambiguous hints, Frowns, hesitates, turns pale, and says 'twas nothing; Then feigns to smile, and by his anxious care To prove himself at ease, betrays his pain. Bir. Since my short sojourn here, I've mark'd this earl, And though the ties of blood unite us closely, I shudder at his haughtiness of temper, Which not his gentle wife, the bright Elwina, Can charm to rest. Ill are their spirits pair'd; His is the seat of frenzy, her's of softness, His love is transport, her's is trembling duty; Rage in his soul is as the whirlwind fierce, While her's ne'er felt the power of that rude passion. Edr. Perhaps the mighty soul of Douglas mourns, Because inglorious love detains him here, While our bold knights, beneath the Christian standard, Press to the bulwarks of Jerusalem. Bir. Though every various charm adorns Elwina, And though the noble Douglas dotes to madness, Yet some dark mystery involves their fate: The canker grief devours Elwina's bloom, And on her brow meek resignation sits, Hopeless, yet uncomplaining. Edr. 'Tis most strange. Bir. Once, not long since, she thought herself alone; 'Twas then the pent-up anguish burst its bounds; With broken voice, clasp'd hands, and streaming eyes, She call'd upon her father, call'd him cruel, And said her duty claim'd far other recompence. Edr. Perhaps the absence of the good Lord Raby, Who, at her nuptials, quitted this fair castle, Resigning it to her, may thus afflict her. Hast thou e'er question'd her, good Birtha? Bir. Often, But hitherto in vain; and yet she shews me The endearing kindness of a sister's love; But if I speak of Douglas—— Edr. See! he comes. It would offend him should he find you here. Enter Douglas. Dou. How! Edric and his sister in close conference? Do they not seem alarm'd at my approach? And see, how suddenly they part! Now Edric,[exit Birtha. Was this well done? or was it like a friend, When I desir'd to meet thee here alone; With all the warmth of trusting confidence, To lay my bosom naked to thy view, And shew thee all its weakness, was it well To call thy sister here, to let her witness Thy friend's infirmity?—perhaps to tell her— Edr. My lord, I nothing know; I came to learn. Dou. Nay then thou dost suspect there's something wrong? Edr. If we were bred from infancy together, If I partook in all thy youthful griefs, And every joy thou knew'st was doubly mine, Then tell me all the secret of thy soul: Or have these few short months of separation, The only absence we have ever known, Have these so rent the bands of love asunder, That Douglas should distrust his Edric's truth? Dou. My friend, I know thee faithful as thou'rt brave, And I will trust thee—but not now, good Edric, 'Tis past, 'tis gone, it is not worth the telling, 'Twas wrong to cherish what disturb'd my peace; I'll think of it no more....