University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Blount, Bellair, 1st Jacobite, afterwards Veasey.
JACOBITE LORD
(giving note to BELLAIR).
If I err not, I speak to Sir Sidney Bellair?
Pray vouchsafe me one moment in private.

(Draws him aside.)
BLOUNT.
Despair!
How prevent?—how forestall? Could I win but delay,
I might yet brush this stinging fly out of my way.

(While he speaks, enter Veasey in the background.)
VEASEY.
Ha! Bellair whispering close with that Jacobite lord—
Are they hatching some plot?

(Hides behind the trees—listening.)
BELLAIR
(reading).
So he's safely on board—

JACOBITE LORD.
And should Fortune shake out other lots from her urn,
We, poor friends of the Stuart, might serve you in turn.
You were talking with Blount—Selden Blount—is he one
Of your friends?

BELLAIR.
Ay, the truest.

JACOBITE LORD.
Then warn him to shun
That vile Jezabel's man-trap—I know he goes there.
Whom she welcomes she sells.

BELLAIR.
I will bid him beware.

(Shakes hands. Exit Jacobite Lord.)
BELLAIR
(to BLOUNT).
I have just learned a secret, 'tis fit I should tell you.
Go no more to old Vizard's, or know she will sell you.
Nithsdale hid in her house when the scaffold he fled.
She received him, and went for the price on his head;
But—the drollest mistake—of that tale by-and-by—
He was freed; is safe now!

BLOUNT.
Who delivered him?

BELLAIR.
I.

BLOUNT.
Ha!—you did!

BELLAIR.
See, he sends me this letter of thanks.

BLOUNT
(reading).
Which invites you to join with the Jacobite ranks.
And when James has his kingdom—

BELLAIR.
That chance is remote;

BLOUNT.
Hints an earldom for you.

BELLAIR.
Bah!

BLOUNT.
Take care of this note.

(Appears to thrust it into Bellair's coat-pocket—lets it fall, and puts his foot on it.)
BELLAIR.
Had I guessed that the hag was so greedy of gold,
Long ago I had bought Lucy out of her hold;
But to-night the dear child will be free from her power.
Adieu! I expect you then.

BLOUNT.
Hold! at what hour?

BELLAIR.
By the window at ten, self and ladder await her;
The wedding—eleven; you will not be later.

(Exit.)
BLOUNT
(picking up the letter).
Nithsdale's letter. Bright thought!—and what luck! I see Veasey.

Re-enter Bellair.
BELLAIR.
Blount, I say, will old Jones be to-morrow uneasy?
Can't you fancy his face?

BLOUNT.
Yes; ha! ha!

BELLAIR.
I am off.

(Exit.)