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Two dramatic poems by Menella Bute Smedley

Smedley, Menella Bute (1819 or 20-1877)

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[section]
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BLIND LOVE:
collapse sectionI. 
ACT I.
 I. 
Scene I.—A Garden.
 II. 
Scene II.
 III. 
Scene III.
 IV. 
Scene IV.
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ACT II.
 I. 
Scene I.—A Room in Carlton's House.
 II. 
Scene II.
 III. 
Scene III.
 IV. 
Scene IV.
 V. 
Scene V.
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ACT III.
 I. 
Scene I.—A Room in Grey's House, with a large Window opening to the Garden.
 II. 
Scene II.
 III. 
Scene III.
 IV. 
Scene IV
 V. 
Scene V.
 VI. 
Scene VI.
 VII. 
Scene VII.
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ACT IV.
 I. 
Scene I.—A Garden—Evening.
 II. 
Scene II.
 III. 
Scene III.
 IV. 
Scene IV.—A Boudoir in Grey's House.
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ACT V.
 I. 
Scene I.—A Room in Grey's House.
 II. 
Scene II.—A Room in Raymond's House opening to a Garden.
 III. 
Scene III.
 IV. 
Scene IV.
 V. 
Scene V.—A Room in Grey's House, as before. Hope on the Couch, Avice kneeling beside her.
 VI. 
Scene VI.
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CYRIL.
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PART I.—CHOICE.
 I. 
Scene I.—Cyril's Room. After Supper.
 II. 
Scene II.—The Drawingroom of Mrs. Vere (Cyril's Mother).
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PART II.—TRIAL.
 I. 
[Scene I.]
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PART III.—LOVE.
 I. 
Scene I.—At Bertha's House.
 II. 
Scene II.
 III. 
Scene III.
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PART IV.—THIRTY YEARS AFTERWARDS.
 I. 
Scene I.
 II. 
Scene II.—Vestibule of the Hall in which the Congress is assembled.
 III. 
Scene III.
  
LOVE FOR THE YOUNG.
  
BISHOP PATTESON.
  
A FACE FROM THE PAST.
  
LINES ON THE GREEK MASSACRE.
  
‘HE PREACHED TO THE SPIRITS IN PRISON.’

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Scene VII.

Grey—Raymond—Hope.
Enter Grey.
GREY
Well found! My errand, friends,
Needs you together.

HOPE
Father—

GREY
(interrupting)
You shall speak
When I have done, if you have still a mind;
But I have that to say which makes maids dumb,
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Although they think the more. I come to fix
Your wedding, gentle pair.
(To Raymond, who starts)
Ah, you are quick;
You would forestall me—will a week content you,
Or must I say, to-morrow? Not a word?
(To Hope)
Come, are your ribbons ready? Will you baulk us
For any foolish scruple of delay
Because your keys are missing, or your robe
Lacks one out of its twenty tryings on?
Talk to her, Raymond!

RAYMOND
Sir, you are too rough—

GREY
What I? What, rough? Were I a woman, son,
I'd not be wooed so gingerly.

RAYMOND
Dear Hope,
Fear no unseemly haste—you shall be queen
Of your own time.

GREY
So please your majesty,
Your loyal subject, having, for good cause,
Devised the day for this great ceremony,
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Implores you of your grace to sanction it.
Shall it be Thursday?

[Raymond turns away with a gesture of despair.
HOPE
(who has been looking in a bewildered manner from the one to the other)
I am not my own
That I should answer.

GREY
Hark! how modestly
She bids you take your privilege. (Aside, stamping)
Speak man!
Are you dumb dust?

RAYMOND
(aside)
Why shrink I from the lie
Having fulfilled the treason? (Aloud.)
Thursday, then;
A joyful promise!

GREY
Hope—

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HOPE
I pray you leave me,
Or let me go, for I would be alone.

GREY
So, so, this liberty of solitude,
Being short-lived, grows precious. You shall stay
With your sweet thoughts. (To Raymond aside.)
But if you leave her thus,
You paper-hearted muser!—

[Raymond approaches Hope, who shrinks away from him.
HOPE
Do not touch me!
I do beseech you leave me!

GREY
Have your way!
We'll let her dream a little!

[Exit, with Raymond.
[Hope stands silent for a minute with downcast head, then suddenly looks up.
HOPE
Was it true?

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