How in my orphan youth my lonely heart

Pined for the love you will not give me!-Mother,
Put but thine arms around me-let me feel

Thy kisses on my brow;-but once-but once!
Let me remember in the years to come

That I have lived to say "A mother bless'd me!"

LADY ARUNDEL.

Oh, could I speak-could I embrace him—all
My heart would gush forth in one passionate burst,
And I should bid him stay; and-Percy, Percy,
My love for thee has made me less than human!

NORMAN.

She turns away-she will not bless the outcast!
She trembles with a fear that I should shame her!
Farewell-farewell for ever! Peace be with thee-
Heaven soothe thy griefs, and make the happy son
Thou lovest so well the source of every solace.
For me (since it will please thee so to deem),
Think I am in my grave!-for never more,

Save in thy dreams, shalt thou behold me!-Mother,
For the last time I call thee so!-I-I

Cannot speak more-I

[Rushes from the room.

LADY ARUNDEL.

Arthur! O, my son!

Come back, come back, my son !-my blessed son!

[Falls by the threshold.

END OF ACT IV.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The Hall in the Castle of Arundel, as in the last Scene.

LADY ARUNDEL.

Gone-gone!-and here he stood, and bless'd the mother
Who did not bless her son!—Ah, Heaven forgive me!
These are the deeds in which I placed my safety,
Now won and worthless !-Oh, how human hearts
Do feed on fire, till, when the flame is slaked
Ashes alone are left!

Enter SIR MAURICE.-(Lady Arundel conceals the papers.)

SIR MAURICE.

Well, cousin, fear not:

All is arranged.-Ere cockcrow thou shalt be
Free of thy terrors !-old Sir Maurice still
Is good for something, eh?

LADY ARUNDEL.

What guilty thought

Speaks in thy ominous smile?

SIR MAURICE.

If thus you wrong me

I'm mute;-and yet thou know'st I live to serve thee.

I can secure thee all-glad days—calm nights : But in this world there are such covetous knaves, That, la you now,-I am ashamed to tell thee— The rogue I have hired wants two thousand pieces This very night to

LADY ARUNDEL.

Silence!-I abhor

Thy crooked counsels-thy rapacious guile :-
I've been too long benighted, and pursued
Meteors for guides! Now the cloud rolls away,
And on my terror breaks the morning star.
I'll nought of thee!

SIR MAURICE.

Thou wilt not!

LADY ARUNDEL.

Miser, no!

Thy black and hideous guilt, out-darkening mine,
Had well nigh drowned my soul beneath a sea
Deeper than that to which thy trait'rous craft
Consign'd my first-born! Quit these halls for ever,
And starve beside the chests whose every coin
At the Last Day shall in the Court of Heaven
Witness against thee, Judas!

SIR MAURICE.

Miser! Judas!

I thank thee-no, to-morrow I will thank thee.

of insult! You and yours,

This crowns the cup of insult!

Your dull-soul'd father, and your lowborn lover

Your coxcomb son-your veriest varlet, down
To the gross scullion, fattening on your offal—
All-all have broke their idiot jests on me-
Me, but for you, the Lord of Arundel!

Yet all, at need, could fawn on old Sir Maurice-
Eke from his wits their poverty of brain—
And-plague upon this wrath!-thou art not worth it
I leave these halls. When next we meet, proud dame,
Thy crest may be less lofty! Miser! Judas!

[Exit.

LADY ARUNDEL.

There's meaning in this frontless insolence :
"When next we meet," said he; "When next we

meet!"

Broods he some new and deadlier mischief?-Ha!
Time wanes-Within there!-

Whither?

LADY ARUNDEL.

SERVANT.

I know not, madam, but he bade me

Say, that he might return not ere the morning.

LADY ARUNDEL.

The morning!-now the danger glares upon me.
He has whisper'd Percy of the lovers' flight;
And they will meet-the brothers-meet as foes!
Quick-torches-quick-let every menial arm!
Quick-follow-lights here!-Heaven avert this woe-
Forgive the mother-Save, oh, save the sons!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The exterior of a ruined Chapel-the Tower of the Chapel, with large Gothic doors, for the background.

Night-the stage darkened.

GAUSSEN and Two Pirates.

All our men posted?---

GAUSSEN.

1ST PIRATE.

Ay, my Captain ;-Luke,