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_Per._ Open, thou earth, and hide me from her sight!
Did'st thou not bid me curse thee?
_Elw._ Mercy! mercy!
_Per._ And have I 'scap'd the Saracen's fell sword Only to perish by Elwina's guilt?
I would have bared my bosom to the foe, I would have died, had I but known you wish'd it.
_Elw._ Percy, I lov'd thee most when most I wrong'd thee; Yes, by these tears I did.
_Per._ Married! just Heaven!
Married! to whom? Yet wherefore should I know?
It cannot add fresh horrors to thy crime, Or my destruction.
_Elw._ Oh! 'twill add to both.
How shall I tell? Prepare for something dreadful.
Hast thou not heard of--Douglas?
_Per._ Why 'tis well!
Thou awful Power, why waste thy wrath on me?
Why arm omnipotence to crush a worm?
I could have fallen without this waste of ruin.
Married to Douglas! By my wrongs, I like it; 'Tis perfidy complete, 'tis finish'd falsehood, 'Tis adding fresh perdition to the sin, And filling up the measure of offence!
_Elw._ Oh! 'twas my father's deed! he made his child An instrument of vengeance on thy head.
He wept and threaten'd, sooth'd me, and commanded.
_Per._ And you complied, most duteously complied!
_Elw._ I could withstand his fury; but his tears, Ah, they undid me! Percy, dost thou know The cruel tyranny of tenderness?
Hast thou e'er felt a father's warm embrace?
Hast thou e'er seen a father's flowing tears, And known that thou could'st wipe those tears away?
If thou hast felt, and hast resisted these, Then thou may'st curse my weakness; but if not, Thou canst not pity, for thou canst not judge.
_Per._ Let me not hear the music of thy voice, Or I shall love thee still; I shall forget Thy fatal marriage and my savage wrongs.
_Elw._ Dost thou not hate me, Percy?
_Per._ Hate thee? Yes, As dying martyrs hate the righteous cause Of that bless'd power for whom they bleed--I hate thee.
[_they look at each other with silent agony._]
_Enter Harcourt._
_Har._ Forgive, my lord, your faithful knight----
_Per._ Come, Harcourt, Come, and behold the wretch who once was Percy.
_Har._ With grief I've learn'd the whole unhappy tale.
Earl Douglas, whose suspicion never sleeps--
_Per._ What, is the tyrant jealous?
_Elw._ Hear him, Percy.
_Per._ I will command my rage--Go on.
_Har._ Earl Douglas Knew, by my arms and my accoutrements, That I belong'd to you; he question'd much, And much he menac'd me, but both alike In vain; he then arrested and confin'd me.
_Per._ Arrest my knight! The Scot shall answer it.
_Elw._ How came you now releas'd?
_Har._ Your n.o.ble father Obtain'd my freedom, having learn'd from Hubert The news of Percy's death. The good old lord, Hearing the king's return, has left the castle To do him homage.
[_To Percy_] Sir, you had best retire; Your safety is endanger'd by your stay.
I fear, should Douglas know----
_Per._ Should Douglas know!
Why what new magic's in the name of Douglas, That it should strike Northumberland with fear?
Go, seek the haughty Scot, and tell him--no-- Conduct me to his presence.
_Elw._ Percy, hold; Think not 'tis Douglas--'tis--
_Per._ I know it well---- Thou mean'st to tell me 'tis Elwina's husband; But that inflames me to superior madness.
This happy husband, this triumphant Douglas, Shall not insult my misery with his bliss.
I'll blast the golden promise of his joys.
Conduct me to him--nay, I will have way-- Come, let us seek this husband.
_Elw._ Percy, hear me.
When I was robb'd of all my peace of mind, My cruel fortune left me still one blessing, One solitary blessing, to console me; It was my fame.--'Tis a rich jewel, Percy, And I must keep it spotless, and unsoil'd: But thou wouldst plunder what e'en Douglas spar'd, And rob this single gem of all its brightness.
_Per._ Go--thou wast born to rule the fate of Percy.
Thou art my conqueror still.
_Elw._ What noise is that?
[_Harcourt goes to the side of the stage._
_Per._ Why art thou thus alarm'd?
_Elw._ Alas! I feel The cowardice and terrors of the wicked, Without their sense of guilt.
_Har._ My lord, 'tis Douglas.
_Elw._ Fly, Percy, and for ever!
_Per._ Fly from Douglas?
_Elw._ Then stay, barbarian, and at once destroy My life and fame.
_Per._ That thought is death. I go: My honour to thy dearer honour yields.