USURPATION ENDED; OR, SHE COMES AGAIN. ACT I.-SCENE I. A Mountainous Country. BATHORY'S Dwelling at the end of the Stage. Enter LADY SAROLTA and GLYCINE. GLYCINE. WELL then! Our round of charity is finished. What tired, Glycine? SAROLTA. No delicate court-dame, but a mountaineer It needs must be a duty doubly sweet To heal the few we can. Well! let us rest. GLYCINE. There? [Pointing to Bathory's dwelling. Surolta answering, points to where she then stands. SAROLTA. Here! For on this spot Lord Casimir And what if even now, on that same ridge, To a numerous cavalcade, and spurring foremost, From his high embassy? SAROLTA. Thou hast hit my thought! All the long day, from yester-morn to evening, To keep his birth-day here, in his own birth-place. But our best sports belike, and gay processions Would to my lord have seemed but work-day sights Compared with those the royal court affords. SAROLTA. I have small wish to see them. A spring morning With its wild gladsome minstrelsy of birds, And its bright jewelry of flowers and dew-drops (Each orbed drop an orb of glory in it) Would put them all in eclipse. This sweet retirement Did but command, what I had else entreated. And yet had I been born Lady Sarolta, So beautiful besides, and yet so stately SAROLTA. Hush! Innocent flatterer! GLYCINE. Nay! to my poor fancy The royal court would seem an earthly heaven, Made for such stars to shine in, and be gracious. So doth the ignorant distance still delude us! Thy fancied heaven, dear girl, like that above thee, The bright blue ether, and the seat of gods! Well! but this broil that scared you from the dance? And was not Laska there: he, your betrothed? GLYCINE. Yes, madam! he was there. So was the maypole, For we danced round it. My own dear lady wished it! 'twas you asked me! SAROLTA. Yes, at my lord's request, but never wished, Oh, yes! It is a wife's chief duty, madam! But I shall tremble. SAROLTA. Not with fear, I think, For you still mock him. Bring a seat from the cot- A fine and feminine grace, that makes me feel [angry voices and clamour within, re-enter Glycine. GLYCINE. Oh, madam! there's a party of your servants, Bethlen, that brave young man! 'twas he, my lady, Pray don't believe them, madam! This way! This way! Lady Sarolta's here SAROLTA. [calling without, Be calm, Glycine. |