ALL O! monstrous!

PETER Fellow servants, a thought strikes me.--Do we, or do we not, come under the penalties of the treason-act, by reason of our being privy to this man's concealment.

ALL Truly a sad consideration.

_To them enters Sandford suddenly._

SANDFORD You well-fed and unprofitable grooms, Maintained for state, not use; You lazy feasters at another's cost, That eat like maggots into an estate, And do as little work, Being indeed but foul excrescences, And no just parts in a well-order'd family; You base and rascal imitators, Who act up to the height your master's vices, But cannot read his virtues in your bond: Which of you, as I enter'd, spake of betraying?

Was it you, or you, or, thin-face, was it you?

MARTIN Whom does he call thin-face?

SANDFORD No prating, loon, but tell me who he was, That I may brain the villain with my staff, That seeks Sir Walter's life?

You miserable men, With minds more slavish than your slave's estate, Have you that n.o.ble bounty so forgot, Which took you from the looms, and from the ploughs, Which better had ye follow'd, fed ye, cloth'd ye, And entertain'd ye in a worthy service, Where your best wages was the world's repute, That thus ye seek his life, by whom ye live?

Have you forgot too, How often in old times Your drunken mirths have stunn'd day's sober ears, Carousing full cups to Sir Walter's health?-- Whom now ye would betray, but that he lies Out of the reach of your poor treacheries.

This learn from me, Our master's secret sleeps with trustier tongues, Than will unlock themselves to carls like you.

Go, get you gone, you knaves. Who stirs? this staff Shall teach you better manners else.

ALL Well, we are going.

SANDFORD And quickly too, ye had better, for I see Young mistress Margaret coming this way.

(_Exeunt all but Sandford._)

_Enter Margaret, as in a fright, pursued by a Gentleman, who, seeing Sandford, retires muttering a curse.

Sandford, Margaret._

SANDFORD Good-morrow to my fair mistress. 'Twas a chance I saw you, lady, so intent was I On chiding hence these graceless serving-men, Who cannot break their fast at morning meals Without debauch and mis-timed riotings.

This house hath been a scene of nothing else But atheist riot and profane excess, Since my old master quitted all his rights here.

MARGARET Each day I endure fresh insult from the scorn Of Woodvil's friends, the uncivil jests, And free discourses, of the dissolute men, That haunt this mansion, making me their mirth.

SANDFORD Does my young master know of these affronts?

MARGARET I cannot tell. Perhaps he has not been told.

Perhaps he might have seen them if he would.

I have known him more quick-sighted. Let that pa.s.s.

All things seem chang'd, I think. I had a friend, (I can't but weep to think him alter'd too,) These things are best forgotten; but I knew A man, a young man, young, and full of honor, That would have pick'd a quarrel for a straw, And fought it out to the extremity, E'en with the dearest friend he had alive, On but a bare surmise, a possibility, That Margaret had suffer'd an affront.

Some are too tame, that were too splenetic once.

SANDFORD 'Twere best he should be _told_ of these affronts.

MARGARET I am the daughter of his father's friend, Sir Walter's orphan-ward.

I am not his servant maid, that I should wait The opportunity of a gracious hearing, Enquire the times and seasons when to put My peevish prayer up at young Woodvil's feet, And sue to him for slow redress, who was Himself a suitor late to Margaret.

I am somewhat proud: and Woodvil taught me pride.

I was his favourite once, his playfellow in infancy, And joyful mistress of his youth.

None once so pleasant in his eyes as Margaret.

His conscience, his religion, Margaret was, His dear heart's confessor, a heart within that heart, And all dear things summ'd up in her alone.

As Margaret smil'd or frown'd John liv'd or died: His dress, speech, gesture, studies, friendships, all Being fashion'd to her liking.

His flatteries taught me first this self-esteem, His flatteries and caresses, while he loved.

The world esteem'd her happy, who had won His heart, who won all hearts; And ladies envied me the love of Woodvil.

SANDFORD He doth affect the courtier's life too much, Whose art is to forget, And that has wrought this seeming change in him, That was by nature n.o.ble.

'Tis these court-plagues, that swarm about our house, Have done the mischief, making his fancy giddy With images of state, preferment, place, Tainting his generous spirits with ambition.

MARGARET I know not how it is; A cold protector is John grown to me.

The mistress, and presumptive wife, of Woodvil Can never stoop so low to supplicate A man, her equal, to redress those wrongs, Which he was bound first to prevent; But which his own neglects have sanction'd rather, Both sanction'd and provok'd: a mark'd neglect, And strangeness fast'ning bitter on his love, His love which long has been upon the wane.

For me, I am determined what to do: To leave this house this night, and lukewarm John, And trust for food to the earth and Providence.

SANDFORD O lady, have a care Of these indefinite and spleen-bred resolves.

You know not half the dangers that attend Upon a life of wand'ring, which your thoughts now, Feeling the swellings of a lofty anger, To your abused fancy, as 'tis likely, Portray without its terrors, painting _lies_ And representments of fallacious liberty-- You know not what it is to leave the roof that shelters you.

MARGARET I have thought on every possible event, The dangers and discouragements you speak of, Even till my woman's heart hath ceas'd to fear them, And cowardice grows enamour'd of rare accidents.

Nor am I so unfurnish'd, as you think, Of practicable schemes.

SANDFORD Now G.o.d forbid; think twice of this, dear lady.

MARGARET I pray you spare me, Mr. Sandford, And once for all believe, nothing can shake my purpose.

SANDFORD But what course have you thought on?

MARGARET To seek Sir Walter in the forest of Sherwood.

I have letters from young Simon, Acquainting me with all the circ.u.mstances Of their concealment, place, and manner of life, And the merry hours they spend in the green haunts Of Sherwood, nigh which place they have ta'en a house In the town of Nottingham, and pa.s.s for foreigners, Wearing the dress of Frenchmen.-- All which I have perus'd with so attent And child-like longings, that to my doting ears Two sounds now seem like one, One meaning in two words, Sherwood and Liberty.

And, gentle Mr. Sandford, 'Tis you that must provide now The means of my departure, which for safety Must be in boy's apparel.

SANDFORD Since you will have it so (My careful age trembles at all may happen) I will engage to furnish you.

I have the keys of the wardrobe, and can fit you With garments to your size.

I know a suit Of lively Lincoln Green, that shall much grace you In the wear, being glossy fresh, and worn but seldom.

Young Stephen Woodvil wore them, while he lived.

I have the keys of all this house and pa.s.sages, And ere day-break will rise and let you forth.

What things soe'er you have need of I can furnish you; And will provide a horse and trusty guide, To bear you on your way to Nottingham.

MARGARET That once this day and night were fairly past!

For then I'll bid this house and love farewell; Farewell, sweet Devon; farewell, lukewarm John; For with the morning's light will Margaret be gone.

Thanks, courteous Mr. Sandford.-- (_Exeunt divers ways._)

ACT THE SECOND

SCENE.--_An Apartment in Woodvil Hall._

_John Woodvil--alone._

(_Reading Parts of a Letter._)