SAROLTA.

I oft have passed your cottage, and still praised
Its beauty, and that trim orchard-plot, whose blossoms
The gusts of April showered aslant its thatch.

Come, you shall show it me! And, while you bid it
Farewell, be not ashamed that I should witness

The oil of gladness glittering on the water

Of an ebbing grief.

[Bathory bowing, shows her into his cottage. LASKA. (alone.)

Vexation! baffled! school'd!

Ho! Laska! wake! why? what can all this mean?
She sent away that cockatrice in anger!

Oh the false witch! It is too plain, she loves him.
And now, the old man near my lady's person,

She'll see this Bethlen hourly!

[Laska flings himself into the seat. Glycine peeps in timidly.

Has the seat stung you, Laska?

LASKA,

No, serpent! no; 'tis you that sting me; you!
What? you would cling to him again!

GLYCINE.

Whom!

LASKA.

Bethlen! Bethlen!

Yes; gaze as if your very eyes embraced him!

Ha! you forget the scene of yesterday!

Mute ere he came, but then-Out on your screams,

And your pretended fears!

GLYCINE.

Your fears, at least,

Were real, Laska! or your trembling limbs
And white cheeks played the hypocrites most vilely!

I fear! whom? What?

LASKA.

GLYCINE.

I know, what I should fear,

Were I in Laska's place.

LASKA.

What?

GLYCINE.

My own conscience,

For having fed my jealousy and envy

With a plot, made out of other men's revenges,

Against a brave and innocent young man's life!

Yet, yet, pray tell me!

LASKA. (malignantly.)

You will know too soon.

GLYCINE.

Would I could find my lady! though she chid me—

Ay, as the old song says,

Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove.

Nay now, I have marred the verse: well! this one question

LASKA.

Are you not bound to me by your own promise?

And is it not as plain

GLYCINE.

Halt that's two questions. LASKA.

Pshaw! Is it not as plain as impudence,

That you're in love with this young swaggering beggar, Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused,

Why pressed you forward? Why did you defend him? GLYCINE.

Question meet question: that's a woman's privilege.

Why, Laska, did you urge Lord Casimir
To make my lady force that promise from me?
LASKA,

So then, you say, Lady Sarolta forced you?
GLYCINE.

Could I look up to her dear countenance,
And say her nay? As far back as I wot of
All her commands were gracious, sweet requests.
How could it be then, but that her requests
Must needs have sounded to me as commands?
And as for love, had I a score of loves,

I'd keep them all for my dear, kind, good mistress.

Not one for Bethlen?

LASKA.

GLYCINE.

Oh! that's a different thing.

To be sure he's brave, and handsome, and so pious
To his good old father. But for loving him-
Nay, there, indeed, you are mistaken, Laska!
Poor youth! I rather think I grieve for him;
For I sigh so deeply when I think of him!
And if I see him, the tears come in my eyes,
And my heart beats; and all because I dreamt
That the war-wolf* had gored him as he hunted
In the haunted forest!

For the best account of the War-wolf or Lycanthropus, see Drayton's Moon-calf, Chalmers' English Poets, Vol. IV. p. 13e.

LASKA.

You dare own all this?

Your lady will not warrant promise-breach.

Mine, pampered Miss! you shall be; and I'll make you Grieve for him with a vengeance. Odd's, my fingers

Tingle already!

[makes threatening signs.

GLYCINE. (aside.)

Ha! Bethlen coming this way!

[Glycine then cries out as if afraid of being beaten. Oh, save me! save me! Pray don't kill me, Laska! Enter BETHLEN in an Hunting Dress.

What, beat a woman!

BETHLEN.

LASKA. (to Glycine.)

you cockatrice!

BETHLEN.

Unmanly dastard, hold!

LASKA. (pompously.)

Do you chance to know

Who-I-am, Sir?-('Sdeath! how black he looks!)

BETHLEN.

I have started many strange beasts in my time,
But none less like a man, than this before me

That lifts his hand against a timid female.