_Raby._ What do I hear?

_Dou._ Nothing: inquire no farther.

_Raby._ My lord, if you respect an old man's peace, If e'er you doted on my much-lov'd child, As 'tis most sure you made me think you did, Then, by the pangs which you may one day feel, When you, like me, shall be a fond, fond father, And tremble for the treasure of your age, Tell me what this alarming silence means?

You sigh, you do not speak, nay more, you hear not; Your lab'ring soul turns inward on itself, As there were nothing but your own sad thoughts Deserv'd regard. Does my child live?

_Dou._ She does.

_Raby._ To bless her father!

_Dou._ And to curse her husband!

_Raby._ Ah! have a care, my lord, I'm not so old--

_Dou._ Nor I so base, that I should tamely bear it; Nor am I so inur'd to infamy, That I can say, without a burning blush, She lives to be my curse!

_Raby._ How's this?

_Dou._ I thought The lily opening to the heaven's soft dews, Was not so fragrant, and was not so chaste.

_Raby._ Has she prov'd otherwise? I'll not believe it, Who has traduc'd my sweet, my innocent child?

Yet she's too good to 'scape calumnious tongues.

I know that Slander loves a lofty mark: It saw her soar a flight above her fellows, And hurl'd its arrow to her glorious height, To reach her heart, and bring her to the ground.

_Dou._ Had the rash tongue of Slander so presum'd, My vengeance had not been of that slow sort To need a prompter; nor should any arm, No, not a father's, dare dispute with mine, The privilege to die in her defence.

None dares accuse Elwina, but--

_Raby._ But who?

_Dou._ But Douglas.

_Raby._ [_puts his hand to his sword._]

You?--O spare my age's weakness!

You do not know what 'tis to be a father; You do not know, or you would pity me, The thousand tender throbs, the nameless feelings, The dread to ask, and yet the wish to know, When we adore and fear; but wherefore fear?

Does not the blood of Raby fill her veins?

_Dou._ Percy;--know'st thou that name?

_Raby._ How? What of Percy?

_Dou._ He loves Elwina, and, my curses on him!

He is belov'd again.

_Raby._ I'm on the rack!

_Dou._ Not the two Theban brothers bore each other Such deep, such deadly hate as I and Percy.

_Raby._ But tell me of my child.

_Dou._ [_not minding him._] As I and Percy!

When at the marriage rites, O rites accurs'd!

I seiz'd her trembling hand, she started back, Cold horror thrill'd her veins, her tears flow'd fast.

Fool that I was, I thought 'twas maiden fear; Dull, doting ignorance! beneath those terrors, Hatred for me and love for Percy lurk'd.

_Raby._ What proof of guilt is this?

_Dou._ E'er since our marriage, Our days have still been cold and joyless all; Painful restraint, and hatred ill disguis'd, Her sole return for all my waste of fondness.

This very morn I told her 'twas your will She should repair to court; with all those graces, Which first subdued my soul, and still enslave it, She begg'd to stay behind in Raby Castle, For courts and cities had no charms for her.

Curse my blind love! I was again ensnar'd, And doted on the sweetness which deceiv'd me.

Just at the hour she thought I should be absent, (For chance could ne'er have tim'd their guilt so well,) Arriv'd young Harcourt, one of Percy's knights, Strictly enjoin'd to speak to none but her; I seiz'd the miscreant: hitherto he's silent, But tortures soon shall force him to confess!

_Raby._ Percy is absent--They have never met.

_Dou._ At what a feeble hold you grasp for succour!

Will it content me that her person's pure?

No, if her alien heart dotes on another, She is unchaste, were not that other Percy.

Let vulgar spirits basely wait for proof, She loves another--'tis enough for Douglas.

_Raby._ Be patient.

_Dou._ Be a tame convenient husband, And meanly wait for circ.u.mstantial guilt?

No--I am nice as the first Caesar was, And start at bare suspicion. [_going._

_Raby._ [_holding him._] Douglas, hear me; Thou hast nam'd a Roman husband; if she's false, I mean to prove myself a Roman father. [_exit Douglas._ This marriage was my work, and thus I'm punish'd!

_Enter Elwina._

_Elw._ Where is my father? let me fly to meet him, O let me clasp his venerable knees, And die of joy in his belov'd embrace!

_Raby._ [_avoiding her embrace._] Elwina!

_Elw._ And is that all? so cold?

_Raby._ [_sternly._] Elwina!

_Elw._ Then I'm undone indeed! How stern his looks!

I will not be repuls'd, I am your child, The child of that dear mother you ador'd; You shall not throw me off, I will grow here, And, like the patriarch, wrestle for a blessing.

_Raby._ [_holding her from him._]

Before I take thee in these aged arms, Press thee with transport to this beating heart, And give a loose to all a parent's fondness, Answer, and see thou answer me as truly As if the dread inquiry came from heaven,-- Does no interior sense of guilt confound thee?

Canst thou lay all thy naked soul before me?

Can thy unconscious eye encounter mine?

Canst thou endure the probe, and never shrink?

Can thy firm hand meet mine, and never tremble?

Art thou prepar'd to meet the rigid Judge?

Or to embrace the fond, the melting, father?

_Elw._ Mysterious Heaven! to what am I reserv'd!