Might find a poor grave in some spot, not far From his mistress' family vault, "being the place Where one day Anna should herself be laid."

(So far in the _Magazine_.)

[Footnote 32: "With" (_London Magazine_).]

[Footnote 33: "In festive bravery deck'd" (_London Magazine_).]

[Footnote 34: This line erased in MS. and nothing subst.i.tuted. In the _London Magazine_ this took its place:--"For so his moving lip interpreted."]

[Footnote 35: "Death" (_London Magazine_).]

[Footnote 36: Lamb drew his pen through the four concluding lines, and wrote in the margin "_very_ bad."]

_Simon_. A melancholy catastrophe. For my part I shall never die for love, being as I am, too general-contemplative for the narrow pa.s.sion. I am in some sort a general lover.

_Margaret_. In the name of the Boy-G.o.d who plays at blind man's buff with the Muses, and cares not whom he catches; what is it you love?

And so on until the end of Simon's famous description of the delights of forest life [page 173]. To this

_Margaret_ (_smiling_). And afterwards them paint in simile.

(_To Sir Walter._) I had some foolish questions to put concerning your son, Sir.--Was John so early valiant as hath been reported? I have heard some legends of him.

_Sir Walter_. You shall not call them so. Report, in most things superfluous, in many things altogether an inventress, hath been but too modest in the delivery of John's true stories.

_Margaret_. Proceed, Sir.

_Sir Walter_. I saw him on the day of Naseby Fight-- To which he came at twice seven years, Under the discipline of the Lord Ashley, His uncle by the mother's side, Who gave his early principles a bent Quite from the politics of his father's house.

_Margaret_. I have heard so much.

_Sir Walter_. There did I see this valiant Lamb of Mars, This sprig of honour, this unbearded John, This veteran in green years, this sprout, this Woodvil, With dreadless ease, guiding a fire-hot steed Which seem'd to scorn the manage of a boy, p.r.i.c.k forth with such an ease into the field To mingle rivalship and deeds of wrath Even with the sinewy masters of the art[37]!

The rough fanatic and blood-practis'd soldiery Seeing such hope and virtue in the boy, Disclosed their ranks to let him pa.s.s unhurt, Checking their swords' uncivil injuries As both to mar that curious workmanship Of valour's beauty in his youthful face.

_Simon_. Mistress Margaret will have need of some refreshment, etc.

Lamb has drawn his pen through this pa.s.sage, and marked it "bad or dubious."

[Footnote 37: Some lines intervene here in the letter to Southey of January 21, 1799, which are not in the MS.]

At the beginning of the fourth act John Woodvil's soliloquy is broken in upon by Sandford. He has just told himself [page 186] that

Some, the most resolved fools of all, Have told their dearest secrets in their cups,

when

_Enter Sandford in haste._

_Sandford_. O Sir, you have not told them anything?

_John_. Told whom, Sandford?

_Sandford_. Mr. Lovel or Mr. Gray, anything concerning your father?

_John_. Are they not my friends, Sandford?

_Sandford_. Your friends! Lord help you, they your friends! They were no better than two Court spies set on to get the secret out of you. I have just discovered in time all their practices.

_John_. But I have told one of them.

_Sandford_. G.o.d forbid, G.o.d forbid!

_John_. How do you know them to be what you said they were?

_Sandford_. Good G.o.d!

_John_. Tell me, Sandford, my good Sandford, your master begs it of you.

_Sandford_. I cannot speak to you. [_Goes out, John following him._]

Scene the Second. The forest.

This forest scene has been greatly altered. When Gray has said [page 188], "'Tis a brave youth," etc., there follows:--

_Sir Walter_. Why should I live any longer? There is my sword (_surrendering_). Son John, 'tis thou hast brought this disgrace upon us all.

_Simon_. Father, why do you cover your face with your hands? Why do you draw your breath so hard? See, villains, his heart is burst! O villains, he cannot speak! One of you run for some water; quick, ye musty rogues: will ye have your throats cut? [_They both slink off._] How is it with you, father? Look up, Sir Walter, the villains are gone.

"He hears" [page 188], down to "_Bears in the body_" [page 188], of the print is not in the MS., which goes on thus:--

_Sir Walter_. Barely a minute's breath is left me now, Which must be spent in charity by me, And, Simon, as you prize my dying words, I charge you with your brother live in peace And be my messenger, To bear my message to the unhappy boy, For certain his intent was short of my death.

_Simon_. I hope as much, father.

_Sir Walter_. Tell him I send it with my parting prayer, And you must fall upon his neck and weep, And teach him pray, and love your brother John, For you two now are left in the wide world The sole survivors of the Woodvil name.

Bless you, my sons-- [_Dies._]

_Simon._ My father's soul is fled.

And now, my trusty servant, my sword, One labour yet, my sword, then sleep for ever.

Drink up the poor dregs left of Woodvil's name And fill the measure of our house's crimes.

How nature sickens, To view her customary bands so snapt When Love's sweet fires go out in blood of kin, And natural regards have left the earth.

Scene changes to another part of the forest.

_Margaret (alone)._ They are gone to bear the body to the town, It was an error merely and no crime.