 | The Profligate Princess |  |
178
SCENE II.
A Prison-Room.Enter Drummond and Annabel.
Anna.
Cheer thee, my father; all the ills we bear,
Impatience and regret embitter to us.
There is some wide mis-aim in our arrestment;
Sir Ronald will return and own his spouse:
If he prove false, there is no faith in man.
Drum.
'Tis all a deep-laid scheme from first to last;
I trace it in progression:—A base scheme
To rob a harmless maiden of her honour!
And now he weens that this severity
Will drive us from the court, and cause forego
All claims upon his person.—Said he not
The hall he left you in was his?
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He said it was my own, and I might use it,
And all within it, at my will and pleasure;
That the rash vow of knighthood, which obliged
Him to conceal his name and dignity
For such a term—that term was nigh expired,
And he would then present his Annabel
To all his friends, as his true wedded spouse.
That many times that oath he had repented,
Seeing the purposes at which it aimed;
But took it in an hour of gayety,
With kinsmen, and with friends, and would not break it.
Drum.
His friends have found that you are poor, my girl,
And forced him by persuasion thus to shun you.
My house hath long been tottering to its fall,
And now that fall's complete.
Anna.
Cheer thee, my father; I am much assured
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If yon proud towers were his.
Drum.
The steward of that house knew no such man;
Nor by his borrow'd name, nor by description:
And, swearing I had come on base intent,
Put me in ward, with many a churlish threat.
I sent a messenger unto the king,
With a full statement of our injuries:—
He's noted for benevolence and justice,
And I had hopes that he would stand our friend;
But he regards us not, nor answers me.
We are deserted, and most destitute;
And of our cause I fear there is no hope.
When poverty with greatness must contend,
The chance is poor indeed.
Enter Keeper.
Keeper.
A messenger from good King Robert greets you.
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Bid him approach.
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Our sovereign lord, King Robert, sends to say,
He doubts of all your strange romantic tale.
Some knights, he knows, in youthful frolic, went
Disguised into the forest; but that now
They're all return'd, save one, who stays in Crawford.
He has given orders for a strict attendance
By those, and all the nobles of his court:—
If you, or she, can point the man who wrong'd you,
The king will force him to perform his vows.
If not, 'tis plain you are a bold impostor,
And mean unvalued article to vend
By stratagem and guile,—to fasten wrong
Upon some nobleman of honour'd name,—
And both of you shall die.
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O hard alternative! Say to the king,
That we, relying on the knight's own honour,
Will urge our suit no farther, but return
To our own home in shame.
Anna.
That shall not be—I'll mark Sir Ronald's air,
Though he be rank'd 'mong thousands, and in guise
Yet undescribed.
Mess.
Nay, I have orders to convey you straight,
Well guarded, to the court—You needs must go.
Drum.
Our ruin is decreed; and all our hopes
Dash'd to the ground at once.—Of my own life
I'm careless—I am weary!—But, my child,
My wrong'd, my hapless Annabel! thy truth,
And filial love, deserved a happier fate!
Anna.
Our plea is good, and wears the badge of truth.
If justice is not resident in courts,
Where is it to be found?
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O simple girl! The poor unfriended wight
Who hopes for justice in a vicious court,
Hopes that, for him, the wolves will change their nature,
Or burning fire blaze harmless round his frame.
When once corruption's baleful form appears,
Though but discernible, all's foul within!
A fiend may for a time deceive mankind,
Veil'd in an angel's robe; but if once seen
The cloven tread, his nature's manifest.
Our doom is certain: I perceive it all,
And none appears to justify or own us!
(Exeunt.)
| The Profligate Princess | |