University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The castle of Samarkoon. Loud shouting heard without.
Enter several Domestics in confusion.
1st dom.
What shouts are those? do enemies approach?
What can we do in our brave master's absence?

2d dom.
Ha! hear it now! it is no enemy;
It is our lord himself; I know the sound.
And lo! his messenger arrived with tidings. Enter a Messenger.

What are thy news?

Mess.
Right joyful news, I warrant.
Our master brings a bride, by conquest won,
To be the bliss and sunshine of his house;
A bride fair as the goddess, bright Patiné.

1st dom.
Most unexpected tidings; won by conquest?

2d dom.
With whom has he been fighting for such prize?

Mess.
Fy, fy, despatch and make such preparation
As may be fitting for a bride's reception:
There is no time for telling stories now.
Despatch, I say; do ye not hear them nearer?
They are not many furlongs from the gate.

[Exeunt in haste, different ways.

SCENE II.

The hall or principal room of the castle.
Enter Samarkoon, leading in a lady covered with a veil, and followed by two female attendants; then a band of musicians and a train of armed men, with Ehleypoolie and several of his soldiers as prisoners. A nuptial chaunt or song is struck up.
Sam.
I give you all large thanks, my valiant warriors,
For the good service ye have done to me
Upon this day of happy fate. Ere long,
This gentle lady too, I trust, will thank you,
Albeit her present tears and alter'd state
Have made her shrink and droop in cheerless silence.
An ample recompense ye well have won,
That shall not with a sparing hand be dealt.
Meantime, partake our cheer and revelry;
And let the wounded have attendance due;
Let sorcery and medicine combine
To mitigate their pain.
(Turning to the prisoners.)
Nay, Ehleypoolie,
Why from beneath those low'ring brows dost thou
Cast on the ground such wan and wither'd looks?
Thy martial enterprise fell somewhat short
Of thy predictions and thy master's pleasure;
But thou and all thy band have bravely fought,
And no disgrace is coupled with your failure.

Ehley.
Had not my amulets from this right arm
Been at the onset torn, e'en ambush'd foes
Had not so master'd us.

Sam.
Well, be it so; good amulets hereafter
Thou mayst secure, and fight with better luck.

Ehley.
Ay, luck was on your side, good sooth! such luck
As fiends and magic give. Another time—

Sam.
What thou wilt do another time, at present
We have no time to learn.

(To his followers generally.)
[Exeunt all but Samarkoon, the bride, and her female attendants.
Bride.
What can I say?
I was the destined bride of great Rasinga;
My father told me so.

Sam.
But did thy heart—
Did thine own heart, sweet maid, repeat the tale?
And did it say to thee, “The elder chieftain
Is he whom I approve; his younger rival
Unworthy of my choice?

Bride.
My choice! a modest virgin hath no choice.
That I have seen you both; that both have seen
My unveil'd face, alas! is my dishonour,
Albeit most innocent of such exposure.

Sam.
Say not dishonour; innocence is honour;
And thou art innocent and therefore honourable,
Though every slave and spearman of our train
Had gazed upon thy face. The morning star
Receives no taint for that a thousand eyes,
All heavenward turn'd, admire its lovely brightness.
Let me again look in thy dark soft eyes,
And read my pardon in one beamy smile.

[Attempting to draw aside her veil, while she gathers it the closer.
Bride.
Forbear, forbear! this is indignity.

Sam.
And this, dear maid, is childish bashfulness.
[The upper fastening of the veil gives way and falls over her hand.
And look, the silly fence drops of itself;
An omen of good fortune to my love.
Oh! while those eyes are fix'd upon the ground,
Defended from too ardent admiration,
With patience hear my suit.—Two rival chiefs
Have look'd upon thy face, and thou perforce
Must choose or one or other for thy husband.
Rasinga, in his rich and noble mansion,
Hath years already pass'd in wedded love;
And is the husband of a virtuous dame,
Whose faithful heart, in giving place to thee,
Will be asunder torn. My house is humble;
No gay and costly treasures deck its walls;
But I am young, unmarried, and my heart
Shall be thine own, whilst thou reignst mistress here,
As shares the lion's mate his forest cave,
In proud equality. Thou smilst at this;
And it doth please thy fancy;—yea, a tear
Falls on that smiling cheek; yes, thou art mine.

Bride.
Too quickly dost thou scan a passing thought.

Sam.
Thanks, thanks! O take my thanks for such dear words!
And speak them yet again with that sweet voice
Which makes my heart dance in its glowing cell.

1st att.
(advancing to Samarkoon).
My lady is forspent with all this coil;
She has much need of quiet rest. I pray,
On her behalf, let this be granted to her.

Bride
(to 1st att.).
I thank thee, nurse! (To Samarkoon.)
My lord, I would retire.

Sam.
I will retire, or do whate'er thou wilt.
Thy word or wish commands myself and mine.

[Exit.
1st att.
Thyself and thine! a mighty rich dominion!
Alack, alack-a-day, the woeful change!
This rude unfurnish'd tower for the fair mansion
Of great Rasinga! Evil was the hour
When those fell demons stopped us on our way.

Bride.
O, say not so! in great Rasinga's house
A noble wife already holds her state,
And here I shall have no divided pleasure.

1st att.
Divided! Doth an elder faded wife
In love, in honour, or in riches share
Like portion with a youthful beauty? No!
She doth herself become the flatt'ring subject
Of her through whom the husband's favours flow;
And thereby doth increase her rival's power
Her state and dignity.
Thou art a simple child, and hast no sense
Of happiness or honour. Woe the day,
When those fell demons stopp'd our high career!

Bride.
But for my father's anger, and the blood
Which has been shed in this untoward fray,
The day were one of joy and not of woe,
In my poor estimation.

1st att.
Poor, indeed!

2d att.
(advancing).
Fy, nurse! how canst thou so forget thyself?
Thy words are rude; my lady is offended.

1st att.
Who would not, so provoked, forget herself?
Ah! the rich treasures of Rasinga's palace!
His gaudy slaves, his splendid palanquins!
They have pass'd from us like a mummer's show,
Seen for an hour and gone.

Enter a female domestic.
Dom.
My master bids me say, the lady's chamber
Is now in readiness.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The court of the castle.
Enter two domestics, meeting.
1st dom.
The merry revelry continues still
As if but just begun, though Samarkoon
Reminds them anxiously, that preparation
For the defence of this neglected hold,
Is pressing matter of necessity.

2d dom.
Those glutton bandits will not leave a board,
On which good viands smoke or wine-cups sparkle,
For all the words of threat'ning or entreaty,
That mortal tongue can utter.

Enter a third domestic, in great alarm.
3d dom.
Where is our master?

1st dom.
What alarms thee so?

3d dom.
There is a power of armed men advancing.
I saw their dark heads winding through the pass
Above the bushes shown; a lengthen'd line,
Two hundred strong, I guess.

1st dom.
It is Rasinga.

2d dom.
Ring the larum bell,
And rouse those drunken thieves from their debauch.

3d dom.
But I must find our master; where is he?

1st dom.
He was i' th' inner court some minutes since.

[The alarum bell has rang, and many people is confusion cross the stage as the scene closes.

SCENE IV.

An open space before the gate of the castle; armed men are discovered on the walls.
Enter Rasinga and his force.
Ras.
(to those on the walls).
Where is that villain whom ye call your lord?
Let him appear, and say, why, like a robber,—
A reckless, lawless traitor, he hath dared
My servants to attack, my bride to capture,
And do most foul dishonour to my state.
Am I a driv'ling fool,—a nerveless stripling,—
A widow'd Rany, propping infants' rights,
That thus he reckons with impunity
To pour on me such outrage?

Enter Samarkoon above, and stands on the wall over the gate.
Sam.
Rasinga, thou art robb'd and thou art wrong'd,
And hast good cause to utter stormy words.

Ras.
Ay, and good cause to back those stormy words
With stormy blows, which soon shall force that gate,
Make desp'rate entrance through the rifted walls,
And leave within your paltry tower, of all
Who dare oppose my arms, no living thing,
Unless thou do restore the mountain beauty,
And all the spoil thou hast so basely won.

Sam.
Though I have dared to wrong thee, brave Rasinga,
I've done it in the heat and agony
Of passions that, within a generous breast,
Are irresistible, and, be assured,
With no weak calculations of impunity.
The living treasure I have robb'd thee of
I will defend to the extremity
Of desp'rate effort, e'en in this poor hold,
Mann'd as it is.—I well might speak to thee
Of equal claims to that fair beauty's favour;
Of secret love; of strong fraternal sympathy
With her whose honour'd name I will not utter;
But that were vain.

Ras.
Vain as a sea-bird's screams,
To check the wind-scourg'd ocean's rising billows:
So far thou speakest wisely.—Stern defiance
I cast to thee; receive it as thou mayst,
Audacious traitor!

Sam.
And I to thee do cast it back again
With words and heart as dauntless as thine own.

Ras.
(to his followers).
Here ends our waste of breath and waste of time.
On, pioneers, and let your pond'rous mallets
Break down the gate! To it, my valiant bowmen!
Discharge a shower of arrows on that wall,
And clear it of yon load of miscreant life.

[Rasinga' s followers raise a shout, which is answered by one equally loud from the adverse party, and the attack commences. After great efforts of attack and defence, the gate is at last forced, and Rasinga, with his force, enters the castle. The scene then closes.

SCENE V.

A wild mountain pass, with a bridge swung from one high perpendicular rock to another. The course of a small stream, with its herby margin, seen beneath. Martial music is heard, and a military procession seen at some distance, winding among the rocks, and at length crossing the bridge. Then come the followers of Rasinga in triumph, leading Samarkoon in chains, followed by men bearing a palanquin, and in the rear Rasinga himself, with his principal officers. As he is on the middle of the bridge, Juan De Creda enters below, and calls to him with a loud voice.
Juan.
Rasinga, ho! thou noble chief, Rasinga!

Ras.
(above).
Who calls on me?

Juan.
Dost thou not know my voice?

Ras.
Juan de Creda, is it thou indeed?
Why do I find thee here?

Juan.
Because the power, that rules o'er heaven and earth,
Hath laid its high commission on my soul
Here to arrest thee on thy fatal way.

Ras.
What mean such solemn words?

Juan.
Descend to me, and thou shalt know their meaning.

[Rasinga crosses the bridge and re-appears below.
Ras.
I have obey'd thee, and do bid thee welcome
To this fair land again.—But thou shrinkst back,
Casting on me looks of upbraiding sorrow:
With thee I may not lordly rights assert;
What is thy pleasure?

Juan.
Is he, the prisoner now led before thee,
Loaded with chains, like a vile criminal,
Is he the noble Samarkoon, thy brother?

Ras.
Miscall not by such names that fetter'd villain:
He, who once wore them with fair specious seeming,
Is now extinct to honour, base and treacherous.
The vilest carcass, trampled under foot
By pond'rous elephant, for lawless deeds,
Was ne'er inhabited by soul more worthless.

Juan.
Thy bitter wrath ascribes to his offence
A ten-fold turpitude. Suspect thy judgment.
When two days' thought has communed with thy conscience,
Of all the strong temptations that beset
Unwary youth by potent passions urged,
Thou wilt not pass on him so harsh a censure.

Ras.
When two days' thought! If that he be alive,
And wear a human semblance two days hence,
In the fell serpent's folds, the tiger's paws,
Or earthquake's pitchy crevice, with like speed,
Be my abhorred end!

Juan.
Hold, hold, Rasinga!
The God, in whose high keeping is the fate
Of every mortal man, or prince, or slave,
Hath this behest declared,—that sinful man
Should pardon grant to a repentant brother;
Yea, more than this,—to his repentant enemies.
So God commands: and wilt thou prove rebellious?

Ras.
Ha! hast thou been in heaven since last we met,
To bring from hence this precious message? Truly
Thou speakst as if thou hadst.

Juan.
No, I have found it in my native land,
Within the pages of a sacred book,
Which I and my compatriots do believe
Contains the high revealed will of God.

Ras.
Ha! then those Europeans, whom the sea
Hath cast like fiends upon our eastern shores,
To wrong and spoil and steep the soil with blood,
Are not compatriots of thy book-taught land.
What! dost thou cast thine eyes upon the ground?
The stain of rushing blood is on thy cheek.
If they be so, methinks they have obey'd
That heavenly message sparingly.—Go to!
Tell me no more of this fantastic virtue,—
This mercy and forgiveness. E'en a woman,
A child, a simpleton would laugh to scorn
Such strange unnatural duty.

Juan.
Call it not so till I have told thee further—

[Taking his hand.
Ras.
Detain me not. But that to thee I owe
My life from fatal sickness rescued,—dearly,
Full dearly shouldst thou pay for such presumption.
Let go thy hold!

Juan.
I will not till thou promise,
Before thy vengeful purpose be effected,
To see me once again.

Ras.
I promise then, thou proud and dauntless stranger;
For benefits are traced in my remembrance
With lines as ineffaceable as wrongs.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

The house of Montebesa; who enters, meeting a servant from the opposite side.
Mont.
What com'st thou to impart? thy busy face
Is full of mingled meaning, grief and gladness.

Serv.
My Lord Rasinga, madam, is returned,—
Return'd victorious; and the fair young bride
Again is rescued by his matchless valour.

Mont.
All this is good; hast thou no more to tell?

Serv.
Alas! I have; for, by his spearmen guarded,
Loaded with chains, most rueful to behold,
Comes Samarkoon. For now it doth appear,
That he, enleagued with robbers, was the spoiler,
Who beat the gallant train of Ehleypoolie,
And bore away their prize.

Mont.
Oh, this is dreadful! Clouds o'erlapping clouds
Are weaving o'er our house an evil woof,—
A fearful canopy. It was to us
That ominous sign was sent, but few days past,
When Boodhoo's rays, beneath the noon's blue dome
With shiv'ring motion gleam'd in streaky brightness,
Surpassing mid-day splendour. Woe is me!
I saw it not unmoved; but little thought,
Ah! little thought of misery like this. Enter Juan de Creda.

Welcome, De Creda; thou in hour of need
Art ever wise and helpful. Dost thou know
Of this most strange event? Of Samarkoon
As lawless spoiler by Rasinga conquer'd,
And led—

Juan.
I do; and come to entreat thee, lady,
That thou with thy enchafed and vengeful son
Mayst use a mother's influence to save him.

Mont.
Entreaties are not wanted, good De Creda,
For herein I am zealous as thyself.

Juan.
He must not die.

Mont.
Nor shall, if I can save him.

Juan.
Then let us meet Rasinga, as he passes,
Ere he can reach the shelter of his chamber,
Where men are wont to cherish moody wrath;
And we will so beset him with our prayers,
That we shall move his soul, if it be possible.
The fair Artina too must come with us
To beg her brother's life.

Mont.
Yes, be it so; but first let us apprise her,
And do it warily, lest sudden grief
O'erwhelm her totally.

Juan.
That will be necessary.
And, lady, let us find her instantly;
We have no time to spare.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

A gallery or passage leading to Rasinga' s chamber.
Enter Rasinga, speaking to an officer, who follows him.
Ras.
And let his dungeon be secured to the utmost
With bolts and bars; and set a double guard
To watch the entry. Make it sure, I say:
For if thy prisoner escape, thy life
Shall pay the forfeit. This thou knowest well,
Therefore be vigilant.
[Exit officer.
The very blood is boiling in my veins,
Whilst the audacious braver of my rights,
My arms, my honour, e'en within a dungeon
And manacled with iron, breathes vital air.

Enter Montebesa by the farther end of the gallery, followed by Artina and Juan de Creda, who remain without advancing further, whilst she approaches her son with an air of dignity.
Mont.
Rasinga, let a mother, who rejoices
In every victory thy arms achieve,
Be it o'er foreign, yea, or kindred foe,
Greet thee right heartily!

Ras.
I thank you, lady!

Mont.
But that my pride in thee may be unmix'd
With any sense of aught to taint thy glory,
Grant me a boon that will enhance thy triumph,
And make me say, with full, elated heart,
Rasinga is my son.

Ras.
Name it; whate'er a man may grant is thine.

Mont.
The life of Samarkoon: that is my boon.

Ras.
The life of Samarkoon! then thou dost ask
The foul disgrace and ruin of thy son.

Mont.
Not so; for thine own peace and future weal,
I do adjure thee to be merciful.

Ras.
And wouldst thou see the son whom thou didst bear,
An unrevenged, despised, derided man?
And have I gain'd from thee and my brave sire
This manly stature and these hands of strength
To play an idiot's or a woman's part?
If such indeed be Montebesa's wish,
Poor slight-boned, puny, shambling drivellers,
Or sickly maidens, should have been the offspring
Produced by her to mock a noble house.

Mont.
O say not so! there will be no dishonour.

Ras.
What! no dishonour in the mocking lips,
And pointing fingers of the meanest peasant,
Who would his whetted blade sheath in the heart
Of his own mother's son for half the wrong,—
Ay, half the wrong which that audacious traitor
Has done to me! Cease, lady; say no more:
I cannot henceforth live in ignominy;
Therefore, good sooth! I cannot grant your boon.

Art.
(rushing forward and catching hold of his hand and his garments).
Dear, dear Rasinga! wilt thou make my life
One load of wretchedness? Thou'st cast me off,—
I who so loved thee and love thee still,—
Thou'st cast me off, and I will meekly bear it.
Then, wilt thou not make some amends to me,
In a saved brother's life, for all the tears,
The bitter tears and anguish this has caused me?

Ras.
(shaking her off).
Thy plea is also vain; away, away!
Thy tears and anguish had been better comforted,
Had he a more successful spoiler proved.
[Turning fiercely on Juan de Creda, who now advances.
Ha! thou too art upon me! Thou whose kindred
And colleagues are of those who read good lore,
And speak like holy saints, and act like fiends.
By my brave father's soul, where'er it be,
Thou art a seemly suitor for such favour!

[Bursts away from them and exit.
Art.
De Creda, good De Creda, dear De Creda!
Wilt thou not follow him?

Juan.
Not now; it were in vain; I might as well,
While wreck of unroof'd cots and forest boughs,
And sand and rooted herbage whirl aloft,
Dark'ning the sky, bid the outrageous hurricane
Spare a rock-cresting palm. But yet despair not;
I'll find a season. Let me lead thee hence.

Mont.
I fear the fierceness of his untamed spirit
Will never yield until it be too late;
And then he will, in brooding, vain repentance,
The more relentless be to future criminals;
As though the death of one he should have spared
Made it injustice e'er to spare another.
I know his dangerous nature all too well.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

A prison.
Samarkoon is discovered in chains; a lamp burning on the ground near him, and a pitcher of water by it.
Sam.
And now the close of this my present being,
With all its hopes, its happiness, and pain.
Is near at hand,—a violent bloody close,
Perhaps with added torture and disgrace.
Oh, Kattragam, terrific deity!
Thy stern decrees have compass'd all this misery.
Short, turbulent, and changeful, and disastrous,
Hath been this stage of my existence. What,
When this is past, abides me in my progress
To the still blessing of unvision'd rest,
Who may imagine or conjecture?—Blessing!
Alas! it is a dull unjoyous blessing
To lose, with consciousness of pain, all consciousness:
The pleasure of sweet sounds and beauteous sights.
Bride, sister, friends,—all vanish'd and extinct,
That stilly, endless rest may be unbroken.
Oh, oh! he is a miserable man,
Who covets such a blessing!—Hush, bad thoughts!
Rebellious, faithless thoughts! My misery
Is deep enough to make e'en this a blessing. Enter Artina.

It cannot be! is it some fantasy?
Who and what art thou?

Art.
(approaching him softly).
The thing I seem; thy miserable sister.

Sam.
My gen'rous, loving sister, in her love
Running such fearful risk to comfort me.

Art.
Nay, more than this, dear brother; more than comfort;
I come to set thee free.

Sam.
Has he relented?

Art.
No, no! Rasinga is most ruthless. I,
By means of this (showing a signet),
which, in our better days,
It was my privilege to use at will,
Have pass'd the guards, and may a short while hence
By the same means return,—return in safety.
Meantime let me undo those galling fetters;
I've brought fit tools, and thou shalt teach me how.

Sam.
But canst thou think the guards will let thee pass,
E'en with thy signet, leading a companion?
It cannot be; thou dost deceive thyself;
Thy mis'ry and affection make thee foolish.

Art.
Not so; there is a secret passage yonder.
That stone (pointing to it)
like many others in the wall,
But rougher still (goes close to the stone and touches it),
look at it!
take good heed,
Has in its core a groove on which it turns:
A man's full strength will move it, and despair
Will make thee strong.

Sam.
Were two men's strength required, I feel within me
The means for such deliverance; if, indeed,
Thou hast not been deceived by some false tale.

Art.
I'm not deceived. But wait, when I am gone,
With limbs yet seemingly enthrall'd, until
The wary guard hath come to ascertain
Thy presence here; and then, when he retires,—
Thou knowst the rest.—Haste, let me loose thy shackles.
Is this the way?

[Kneeling down and using her implements for breaking the chains, which she draws from the folds of her robe.
Sam.
Well done, my most incomparable sister!
Affection seems to teach thee craftsman's skill.

Art.
This link is broken.

Sam.
So it is indeed.
If I am fated yet to live on earth,
A prosp'rous man, I'll have thy figure graven,
As now thou art, with implements in hand,
And make of it a tutelary idol.

Art.
(still working at the chains.)
Ha! thou speakst cheerly now; and thy changed voice
Is a good omen. Dost thou not remember
How once in play I bound thy stripling limbs
With braided reeds, as a mock criminal?
We little thought—Another link is conquer'd;
And one alone remains.
[Tries to unloose it.
But it is stubborn.
Oh, if that I should now lack needed strength!
Vile, hateful link, give way!

Enter Rasinga, and she starts up, letting fall her tools on the ground.
Ras.
And thou art here, thou most rebellious woman!
A faithful spy had given me notice of it,
And yet, methought, it was impossible
Thou couldst be so rebellious, so bereft
Of female honour, matronly allegiance.

Art.
Upbraid me not, my lord; I've at your feet
Implored you to relent and spare his life,
The last shoot of my father's honour'd house.
But thou, with unrelenting tyranny,
Hast chid me from thee.—Matronly allegiance,
E'en in a favour'd and beloved wife,
O'errules not every duty; and to her,
Who is despised, abandon'd, and disgraced,
Can it be more imperious? No, Rasinga;
I were unmeet to wear a woman's form,
If, with the means to save my brother's life,
Not implicating thine, I had, from fear
Of thy displeasure, grievous as it is,
Forborne to use them.

Ras.
Ha! such bold words to justify the act,
Making rebellion virtue! Such audacity
Calls for the punishment which law provides
For faithless and for disobedient wives.

Sam.
Rasinga, if that shameful threat be serious,
Thou art the fellest, fiercest, meanest tyrant,
That e'er joined human form to demon's spirit.

Ras.
And dost thou also front me with a storm
Of loud injurious clamour?—Ho, without!
[Calling aloud.
I came not here to hold a wordy war
With criminals and women.—Ho! I say. Enter Guards.

Secure the prisoner, and fasten tightly
His unlock'd chains.—And, lady, come thou instantly
To such enthralment as becomes thy crime.

[Exeunt Rasinga and Artina, who is led off by guards, while motioning her last farewell to Samarkoon. The scene closes.

SCENE IX.

An apartment in the house of Montebesa.
Samar is discovered playing on the floor with toys, and Sabaw atté sitting by him.
Samar
(holding up a toy).
This is the prettiest plaything of them all:
I will not use it till my mother come,
That she may see it fresh and beautiful.

Sab.
Alas, sweet Samar! would that she were here!

Samar.
Will she not soon? how long she stays away!
And she has been so kind to me of late.

Sab.
Was she not always kind?

Samar.
Yes, always very kind; but since my father
Has thought of that new bride—I hate that bride—
And spoken to me seldom and with looks
Not like his wonted looks, she has been kinder;
Has kiss'd me oftener, and has held me closer
To her soft bosom. O she loves me dearly!
And dearly I love her!—Where is she now,
That thou shouldst say, “I would that she were here!”

Sab.
Dear boy; I may not tell thee.

Samar.
May not tell me!
Then she is in some sad and hateful place,
And I will go to her.

Sab.
Ah no! thou canst not.

Samar.
I will; what shall withhold me, Sabawatté?

Sab.
Strong bolts and bars, dear child!

Samar.
Is she in prison?

Sab.
She is.

Samar.
And who hath dared to put her there?

Sab.
Thy father.

Samar.
Then he is a wicked man,
Most cruel and most wicked.
I'll stay no longer here; I'll go to her;
And if through bolts and bars I may not pass,
I at her door will live, as my poor dog
Close by my threshold lies and pines and moans,
When he's shut out from me.—I needs must go;
Rooms are too good for me when she's in prison.
Come, lead me to the place; I charge thee, do;
I'll stay no longer here.

Enter Montebesa, and he runs to her, clasping her knees, and bursting into tears.
Mont.
What is the matter with thee, my dear child?
(To Sabawatté.)
Does he know aught?

Sab.
I could not keep it from him.

Samar.
I know it all; I know it all, good granddame.
O take me to her! take me to her prison!
I'll be with her; I'll be and bide with her;
No other place shall hold me.

Mont.
Be pacified, dear child! be pacified,
And I myself will take thee to thy mother:
The guards will not refuse to let me pass.
Weep not so bitterly, my own dear Samar!
Fy! wipe away those tears and come with me.

Sab.
A blessing on you, madam, for this goodness!
It had been cruelty to keep him here.

[Exeunt.