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pated the fumes of the wine, and the I said to them, and strew them on my phaptoms of night, and I questioned bed; sprinkle my head with liquid myself on the deeds of the preceeding amber; and let the lyre, the flute, day, I could not recal to myself the and the harp, with their enchanting source of the joy which I had expe- sounds, dispose the heart to love and rienced, nor the circumstances which you. Beautiful maid, approach, whose had excited it. I immediately consi- angelic form, and beautiful face, prodered that the pleasantries which cure for your master, that happiness charm the convivial guests, and excite which he has so long coveted. Thus their immoderate laughter, have their speaking, I descended from my throne foundation in nonsense, in an equi- of gold, and approaching her with a voque, a play of words, or obscene tender and respeciful air, I placed a songs. Perhaps the source of this crown of flowers on her head. Refalse gaiety gives birth to the follies ceive, I said, the honours which naof the one and the wickedness of the ture'owes you,and which love accords. other; and it is at the best but a fleet- Elevated above your companions, it ing enjoyment, and is founded on the will now be their duty to obey you. ruin and dishonour of other people. Come, charming maid, follow my Unhappy man! - whom grief and steps. Alas! what pain and grief despair yield alternately to different lacerated my heart, when, with a motorinents-who, in the flowing glass, dest disdain, she returned me my seeks only the forgetfulness of him- crown of flowers, and sunk into self, and who sees not that sickness, the deepest grief. I concealed ny alienation of mind, loss of memory, chagrin, and my eunuchs were comand nisery are concealed in the manded to conduct this youthful sreacherous draught.
beauty to an apartment prepared for Is there not any thing, remaining my pleasures. "Desire and inquietude wlierewith the languor of The soul can made me basten after her. I apbe cured; and peace restored to the proached her, I solicited the favour mind-does not love offer a certain of being heard; I painted the ardour remedy? Deliver thyself up, my of my passion, but I received every soul, to its agreeable delight, and momeni a fresh assurance of my dis. burn with its delicious fires. Why grace. By turns I was a slave and a shouldst thou hesitate? Why retard fyrant. I menaced and I implored'; at the moment of thy happiness? Fiy, last, transported with love and rage, I my favourite, spare not any thing io offered her the choice of a mutual love, give satisfaction to your master. Let or an instant death. Sensible of the all my women, and nìy concubines, passion and the menaces of her king, superbly adorned, appear this night she retired a few paces, and directing at my royal table. Let the women of towards me a look, mised of sorIsrael, the beauties of foreign coun- row and indignation, she spoke. tries, the presents of princes, or the What does king Solomon suppose ? slaves of my court, present them. My feeble body trenibles before you, selves before their monarch, and the and that is the only advantage your most worthy of them shall obtain his power gives you. There it finds its favours. I spoke, and was obeyed- limits. My mind is free above your the most beautiful women of the uni- courroul, and fears neither the rage verse passed before me. One, of the conqueror, nor the weight of amongst the rest, attracied my aten- bis chains. They tell me, Prophet tion. I was struck with ber superior supreme! that you can argue of the charms. Alas! my soul now recals the angels of men, and the brutes - that first inoment of an unhappy and on- you can reason elegantly on the folly fortunate attachment. This virgin of the passions and the empire of was an Egyptian--the graces had reason-ihat you know to discover to formed her shape; her countenance the attentive tribes, the cause of evil was open, her air commanding, her and the source of good--and that your jetty locks floated on a bosoin wbiter wisdom is only equalled by your powihan the snow on the mountain. I er. Where thien is now that wisdom? invited my friends to contribute to the or is it blinded by love? O judge of happiness of their king. Bring roses, Israel, what art thou at this moment?
UNIVERSAL MAC, VOL. XIV. 3 L
Will the son of David receive, in the shall a slave, a peasant-boy, a lacquey, first nuptial bed of the universe, a a mere creature of my will, thus dare stranger, a peasant, a slave? If your to cross me even in my very love? passion suffer you not to attend to Alb'rt Yet hear me. these odious naines, and if love, like Gorbuc. (In a contemptuous mandeath, absorbs every distinction, are ner). But, forsooth, you are liis you therefore ignorant, that it belongs friend, the chosen object of bis esteem, to me to satisfy your tenderness. En- his bosom friend; and I can well anploy, cruel king, your useless force. ticipate the fond excuses you would Give no rein to your fury, and with- make. out knowing real pleasure, obtain that Albert. No, Gorbuc! I ain no mean which can delight your tyranuy-on defender of baseness and ingratitude my heart it has no effect. Know, Prove to me that Edward is the wretch Solomon, how much your power is you think him, andlimited. You can, with a threatening Gorbuc. (Sneeringly). I underlook make Israel tremble. It is ten- stand you-but-lell and damnation, derness alone which gives birth to the very thought is mallness. I tell love, but in this instant it has no in- thee, young man, I saw hia. What, fluence on me. I am destined for an- wuld you have me doubt my eyes, other," beyond the limits of your em- my ears, and all my senses? pire, in iny own country. I bave him-curses light on his young body, pledged my faith to my equal. He ! would my sword had, in the same received my first sigh, and the first instant, sought his perfidious heart
. expression of my love: the God above And she, too, the faithless Adelaidehas heard them, and death alone can she-your sister-she, could stoop so alter them. Plunge your poinard in low, as to listen to the rows of a 'vile my breast, deprive me of a life which peasant! I now disdain. Since I am in your
Albert. Be not too rash. In our power, let your brutality be extin- judgment of things, we should forbear guished in my blood; but whilst it a too hasty decision from external circulates in my veins, and whilst it appearances. I dare swear you'll find, is permitted me to respire, I here at- ere long, that you have greatly wrong, test before the Gods of Egypt, that ed them both. Nay, as to Adelaide, ! hatred of thee shall be my lot: may never can believe her half so vile-and despair, barbarous king, be thine. EdwardStrike, continued the beautiful cap
Gorbuc. Is a villain ! I proclaim tive, uncovering her bosom, and let it it loudly. A base, cringing, cowardbe written in the annals of Juda, that ly villam! A mere slave, a pander; the son of David, inflamed by an impi- a wretch who bears about hin a foul ous passion, immolated his slave, and and frontless conscience. massacred the object of his love.
Albert, Pooh! you're too warm.
R. H. I cannot keep pace with the violence [To be continued.]
of your passion.
Gorbuc. No, Sir, your ill-timed The Secret CHAMBER ; or, The 'friendship can brook a thousand inNOBLE PEASANT. An original
sults which my honour burns to casti. Drama, in Three Acts.
gate. Yet lisico: I will tell i he bew, Continued from p. 370.]
the very place, and time I caught
thein in the shameless faci. "Tws A Gothic Chamber.
yeuter-evening, when, walking in the Enter GORBIC ad ALBERT. garden, musing on the ranjene rurne Albert.
of life, I saw your sister cross the N JAY, I pray thee, gentle cousin, pails in which I was. She scemed 13
do not start away so, and give haste, and as I bent my pimlule steps the rein thus to thy passion. I tell to follow her, lo! I beheld young Ldthee
ward issue froin an adjoining walk. Gorbuc. And I tell thee--that it A thought, like lightwing, Hashed is false false as llell. These eyos be. across my mind: een now it scarcits beld him on his knees before her my very brain, and makes me wild. these ears heard his vile tale-'s ieatli, ol! thái at that moment the winged
The Secret Chamber, or, The Noble Peasant. A Drama. 451 thunder of Heaven had blasted his dames, sit us down and cry? weep youthful form, and stretched him, at like a love-sick girl, and play the fool iny feet, a lifeless corse!
with our own eyes ? No: rather let Albert. I pray thee bę calm.
us seek revenge. Gorbuc. Calm! Bid the raging sca Albert. Revenge! What revenge ? smooth its ruffled surface when furi. What would thy headstrong fury do? ous whirlwinds rush along-bid the
Gorbuc. Murder. tortured wretch sinile in convulsive Albert. Murder! who? what? agonies-or bid the blood-stained vil- Gorbuc. Fool! lair, whose soul is deep in guilt, smile Albert. I do confess my soul shrinks with hope and resignation in the hour with horror from the thought of blood. of death!
Nay, more: I would not, for the worth Albert. Well, but proceed with of worlds, injure my sister: for her thy tale.
guilt must be more strongly, more in. Gorbuc. It is short, for-would you dubitably placed before my eyes, ere thirk it? as I followed close behind, I can give it credence. I saw your sister stop-she beckoned Gorbuc. So then, it seems you doubt Edward to approacli---he sprang to- my word. Hla! is it so: by Hell, wards ber and they turned into an- young man, if thou dar'st say as much, other avenue. But I was not to be I would have thee look to thyself. deceived--faithful to the damning I am not used to be insulted thus. agonies which then tore my bosom, I
Albert. Nor 1 to be bravadoed! still kept up the chace till, at last, i Gorbuc, your temper is intolerably saw them seated in the arbor, that oveïbearing, thougli for wisestreasons, scene of all their guilt.
I havenditherto chosen to endure it. Albert. Guilt! You alarm me! Learn, however, that the blood of a What, he did not-but no--'tis im- noble ancestry circolates within this possible---speak on, I pr’ythee, for my bosom, and will warmly mouse itself to soul is on the rack.
repress an insulting boaster! Gorbuc. Silently I crept along be
Gorbuc. How! boaster. neath the umbrageous foliage, till at Albert. Ave, boaster! I repeat it. length my ears were curst with the If thou like it not, act as thou wilt. maddening sound of love !
Gorbuc. Thy father's name protects Albert. Love !
thee, stripling, or, by yon Heaven, ny Gorbuc. Ave, love! 'twas a tale of sword should soon chastise thy insolove. I heard the villain sighing at lence. her feet, dissolved in amorous fires ! Albert. Why, look ye, Gorbuc, I God! why did I not then stab bim to can, if there be need, as stoutly stand the heart?
to't as any man in England; and, I Albert. Well, but what said my believe, even you would find ine sonesister? Surely she reproved his bold what tough. But domestic peace has ness; her pride, her wounded pride, ever been my aim; nor do I wish, at must at once have crushed his arro- this unsettled moment, io embroil, by gance.
any act of mine, a father's happiness. Gorbuc, No: there it was. She, I do, however, pledge my honour, that perfidious woman, heard, with fond if young Edward proveso base, so vile delight, his insidious vows; encou. as you report; and it my sister be that raged his bopes; soothed his fears; worthless thing you think her, I will calmed his apprehensions; kissed make sou ample amends for any uncaressed-and---damnation! becoming doubts I may have ex
Albert. Oh! stop. Lei me not hear pre-sed. the dreadful truth. Oh, unhappy
Gorbuc. Then be it so; nieanwhile girl, what hast thou done? The ho. I will to the baron, for I have business tour of thy house is stained, and thy with hiin.
[Erit. Blame become the mark of every vul. Albert. I am almost distracted. If gar jest. Well do I foreseeabe fatal what Gorbuc tell me, be true, the hoconsequences of thy heinous crime. nour of my family demands that I
Gurbuc. What whining capt is this should chastise, with my sword, the What childish, weak, etteminate re. villainy of Edward-of Edwardi-my gret. How, shall we then, like gran. frlend !--is it possible!can he be false?-can be be ungrateful and my to abuse thine ear with foul tales of sister too, can she bave stained her vilest infamy, is it for thee so pame by so foul an act! Oh, Ade- readily to eredit the undoing of thy laide, Adelaide, if thou hast done so sister Enter ADELAIDE.
Albert. Mark mc, Adelaide! I have Ilast done what my brother! What ever loved thee with a brother's have I committed that should make warmth; have felt the same hopes, thee thus, in anguish, call upon my the same joys, the same fears, and name? (He turris from her). Nay, knew no bliss but what I shared with for leaven's sake, do not turn from thee. Nay, even now, would die, to me. If I have ever, even in thought, shelter thee from harm. Yet, if what done ought that can raise a blusb up- I've heard be true, on thy check, oh! drive me, spurn. Adelaide. Oh, tell me--tell me all me from thy presence. But no! lam —that I may prove how false it it! innocent. Do not, then, so cruelly I cannot bear to stand accused before wring my heart.
thee, even in thought. Albert. Adelaide! for I know not Albert. Do you remember yesterwhether I dare call thee by the nime night. of sister, I have heard such tidings of Adelaide. What of it? thee, as, till I am satisfied as to their Albert. The garden. truth or falsebood, forbid me to ex- Adelaide. Where? plain myself.
Albert. Young Edward—the arbour Adelaide. Explain thyself! Oh, rows of love. Hah: does it not Albert! look at me, does the blush strike upon your soul, like lightning, of guilt distain my cheek? Feel this and rouse a thousand fiends? What! hand! does it trenible? My heart- not change colour! Oh, hardened in does it beat with quicker pulsation your guilt. than when I saw you last?' Believe Adelaide. Hear me Albert. me, however false reports may have Albert. No. reached thine car, lam as truly and as Adelaide. For Heaven's sake do not worthily thy sister as ever.
refuse me. Lo! on my kuees I beg it' Albert. Pardon me. My informa- Albert. Rise, I pray tliee. I wish tion comes from unquestionable au- no humiliation. thority; and, perhaps, recollection Adelaide. Never will I quit ibis pos. may awaken to a thousanú thoughts, ture till I have compelled you to give when I pronounce the name of-Gor: me justice. Thus will I hold you! buc.
and with tears exclaim, “I am innoAdelaide. Ha! Gorbuc! My heart cent!" | Albert struggling to go). sickens at the sound.
Nay, you shall not quit me; I will be Albert. Ha! du you start! Oh, satisfied. guilt, guilt, have I caught you. Nay Albert. Foolish girl! This contuthen, this instant will I seek young macy rather confirms suspicion, and Edward, and reach his perfidious seems as though you'd compel me into heart. (Going).
a disbelief. Loose me I say, or thus, Adelaide. Oh, stop my brother! ! thus, I tcár me from you. (Raskes will explain myself, and clear up all out, dragging Adelaide after him). your doubts. I will lay my bosom
End of Act 1. open to you, and yon sball read its in
Act. II. SCENE I. most thoughits. I have never wronged
The Library. you.
Altert. Not wronged me! Have The Baron discovered reading. A you not stained the honour of your
knocking at the door heard. family? Have you not become the Baron. Come in. / Enter Edward). pauder of your own infamyi-the base Welcome my young friend. I sent for slave of your paramour ?—'sdeath, not you Edward, to have a little conversawronged me?
jion ere you proceed to your night'i Adolaide. Oh Heaven! oh earth! repose, in your new apartinent. bear witness when I say~I am inno- Edward.' It will ever be my pride cent. If Gorbuc, (how my soul shud- to listen to your words, and to obey ders at the name), bas meanly sought your dictates.
Baron. I belive you, my boy, and never fight with those they could not I'm glad to see it. I do remember, see. when first I took you to my house, a Edward. Why there was something little chubby rogue, there was a gentle like courage in that to be sure; howe mildness in thy manners that won my ever, I will venture unarmed to meet esteem ? and í did then predict you this formidable sprite, and doubt not would not wrong my kindness. I shall be able to render a good ac
Edward. Oh, sir, if ever this heart count of him to-morrow. could cease to honour and to love you,
Baron. Hark'ee Edward, I intend then may it instantly cease to beat. I
to-morrow morning to summon all was a poor, friendless child, exposed my household into the great hall, and to all the storms of poverty, when, in there you shall relate, if any thing your bountiful mercy, you spatched me from penury, and raised me into wards, in order that every atom of dis
occurs during the night; and afteraffluence. My life, 'tis all I have, trust may be destroyed, they shall shall ever be at your service; and accompany you thither, and thus be surely I can never forget to die in your convinced from occular demonstrabehalf.
tion. Baron. Come, come, I did not mean
Edward. Be it so. I shall be happy this; but now let us proceed to the if I can in any manner be instrumenimmediate object of this visit. Sit you tal in restoring peace to a family to down. (They seat themselves). Ed- which I owe so much. ward, you have doubiless noted that foolish' idea which prevails amovg my
Baron. Aye, aye, you were always servants, and I believe through the a grateful youth; and yet methinks whole village, of the eastern apart- you have been but poorly treated. ments being haunted.
Gorbuc does not appear to hold you Edward. I have, and oft have sought much in his esteem. How is it? have 10 quell such childish apprehensions you had any rupture with him? hy the force of ridicule, but they are so
Edward. None, my lord. W batdeeply rooied, and seem to have been ever man shares your good opinion so long believed, that I fear it is im. commands my respect, and compels possible to eradicate ri.em.
me, from motives of honour, to stifte Baron. Poob! pooh! I dont de. dawning resentment. spair of driving all these hobgoblins
Baron. I do not understand you. into the Red Sea, with thy aid alone. Believe me, you mistake me much, if
Edward. Command me and I shall you think I would designedly misobey.
place my regard. Know you ought of Baron. Now I wish you, this night, Gorbuc, that can in any manner taint at a test of its fallacy, to sleep in ibat his fair character? By my soul an apartment. I dare venture to say you ye do, and refuse to disclose it, you are not afraid.
act not fairly by me. Edward. I afraid! The innocent Edward. Indeed, my lord, I have never fcar.
never observed any thing but an overParon. Yes, yes, but they do some. bearing arrogance, and a studied intimes. I do not imagine that my ser. solence to those whom he deems his vants are very far from being inno. inferiors. I am free in my observacent, that is in as, their consciences tion, but it is the language of my are untouched, vei, I'm sure, they beart. would sooner wallow poi-on, ormor
Baron Trust me, I fear, it is the -be married, than pass five minutes language of resentment, and you seek in that apartment alone. To be sure to 'injure Gorbuc in my opinion they did once offer to go all in a body, merely becausearmed with pokers, shovels, brooms,
Edward. Because what, my lord? saucepans, gridirons, and the whole Baron. Oh! nothing, nothing at all. kitchen artillery, with old Ambrose It was a mere trifle; and, in fact, '! for their colonel; but in consequence did not pay much attention to his of one of their fellows athrming trai tale, though I observed he was deeply old saucer eyes fights invisibly; they stung; and then he talked of dismissall san back, swearing they would ing the peasant boy from my protec