ACT III.

SCENE 1.

The French Camp. Enter ATHENS and RIBEMONT.

Ribemont.

LORD Constable, I was not in the presence
When Perigort had audience of the king,
Inform me, for I wish to know, does peace
Her olive-garland weave? Or must the sword
Be kept unsheath'd, and blood-fed vengeance live?
Ath. The king expecting me, I cannot tarry
To let your lordship know particulars ;

But the good father, who even now set forward,
Carries such terms as, from my soul, I wish
Young Edward may accept: for 'tis resolv'd,
If they're rejected, instant to attack them.
Yonder's the fugitive, I see, advancing,
Who left their camp this morning. If we fight,
And you have there a friend you wish to save,
This man may point you to his post. Farewell. [Exit.
Rib. This man-By Heav'n, there's treason in
his aspect!

That cheerless gloom, those eyes that pore on earth,
That bended body, and those folded arms,

Are indications of a tortur'd mind,
And blazon equal villany and shame.
In what a dire condition is the wretch,
Who, in the mirror of reflection, sees

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The hideous stains of a polluted soul !·

To corners then, as does the loathsome toad,
He crawls in silence: there sequester'd lies
"The foamy ferment of his pois'nous gall,"
Hating himself, and fearing fellowship.

Enter ARNOLD, musing.

Arn. What have I done! And where is my reward? Charney withholds his daughter from my arms, My flatter'd recompence for Hold, my brain! Thought that by timely coming might have sav'd me, Is now too late, when all its office serves

But to awaken horror!

Rib. I'll accost him.

Are you an Englishman ?

Arn. I had that name,

[Aside.

(Oh, killing question)but have lost it now. Rib. Lost it indeed!

Arn. Illustrious Ribemont !

(For was your person less rever'd and known
By every son of Britain, on your brow
That splendid token of renown you wear,
Would be your herald)—Pity, if you can,
A wretch- -the most undone of all mankind.
Rib. I much mistake your visage, or I've seen you
In near attendance on the Prince of Wales.

Arn. I was indeed,—(Oh, scandal to confess it)
I was his follower, was his humble friend;

He favour'd, cherish'd,-lov'd me!-Heav'nly pow'rsl How shall I give my guilty story utterance!-

Level your fiery bolts !-Transfix me here !
Or hurl me howling to the hell I merit.

Rib. Invoke no pow'r, a conscience such as thine Is hell enough for mortal to endure.

But let me ask thee, for my wonder prompts me, What bait affords the world, that could induce thee To wrong so godlike and so good a master?

Arn. True, he is all, is godlike, and is good!
Edward, my royal master, is indeed

A prince beyond example ! Yet your heart,
If it has ever felt the power of beauty,
Must mitigate the crime of raging love.

Rib. Love!-Thou lost wretch!-And could so frail a fire

Consume whate'er was great and manly in thee?
Blot virtue out, and root each nobler passion
Forth from thy mind? The thirst of bright renown?
A patriot fond affection for thy country?

Zeal for thy monarch's glory? And the tie
Of sacred friendship-by thy prince enobled ?
Begone, and hide thy ignominious head,
Where human eye may never penetrate;
Avoid society, for all mankind

Will fly the fellowship of one like thee.

Arn. Heav'n! wherefore said'st thou that we must

not err,

And yet made woman?

Rib. Why accuse you Heav'n?

Curse your inglorious heart for wanting fire,

The fire that animates the nobly brave!

The fire that has renown'd the English name,
And made it such as ev'ry age to come

Shall strive to emulate-but never reach-
There thou wert mingled in a blaze of glory,

Great-to amazement great!-But now how fall'n!
Ev'n to the vilest of all vassal vileness,

The despicable state of female thraldom.

“Arn. From letter'd story single out a man, "However great in council or in fight,

"Who ne'er was vanquish'd by a woman's charms. "Rib. Let none stand forth, there is no cause they

should!

"Beauty's a blessing to reward the brave; "We take its transports in relief from toil, “Allow its hour, and languish in its bonds : "But that once ended, dignity asserts

"Its right in manhood, and our reason reigns." Arn. Untouch'd by passion, all may talk it well; In speculation who was e'er unwise?

But appetites assault like furious storms,
O'erbearing all that should resist their rage,
'Till sinking reason's wreck'd; and then succeeds
A gloomy calm-in which reflection arms

Her scorpion brood-remorse, despair, and horror!
Rib. But could contrition ever yet restore

To radiant lustre a polluted fame ? "Or man, however merciful, forget

"That justice brands offenders for his scorn?” Truth, the great touchstone of all human actions,

The fair foundation of applause or blame,

Has ting'd thy honour with too foul a stain,
For all repentant tears to wash away.

All eyes 'twill urge to dart their keen reproaches,

Each tongue to hiss, and ev'ry heart to heave
With indignation at thee.

Arn. All the pride,

That here should kindle into high resentment,
I find is gone! My spirit's sunk, debas'd!
My guilt unmans me and I'm grown a coward.

[Aside.
Rib. The trumpets may wake, the clarions swell,
That noble ardor thou no more canst feel,
Disgrac'd from soldier to a renegade.

Anon, while o'er the dreadful field we drive,
Or dealing deaths, or daring slaught'ring swords }
Do thou at distance, like the dastard hare,
All trembling, seek thy safety. Thence away,
As fortune, or thy genius may direct,
Thy conscience thy companion. But be sure,
Whatever land you burden with your weight,
Whatever people you hereafter join,
Tell but your tale, and they will all, like me,
Pronounce you abject, infarious and hateful.
Arn. Abject and hateful

all!

Infamous

The world has not another monster like me:
Nor hell in all its horrid store of evils,
Beyond what I deserve! Already here
I feel the shafts, they rankle in my bosom ;
And active thought anticipates damnation.

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[Exit.

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