Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 1.pdf/333

Totter like nurselings, and demand the aid
Of gentle sympathy.
From all those diverse modes of dire assault,
He owns a heart of hardest adamant,
Who shall escape to-night.

Freb. (To De Monfort, who has entered during Rezenvelt's speech, and heard the greatest part of it.) Ha, ha, ha, ha!
How pleasantly he gives his wit the rein,
Yet guides its wild career!
(De Monfort is silent.)

Rez. (Smiling archly.) What, think you, Freberg, the same powerful spell
Of transformation reigns o'er all to-night?
Or that De Monfort is a woman turn'd,
So widely from his native self to swerve,
As grace my gai'ty with a smile of his?

De Mon. Nay, think not, Rezenvelt, there is no smile
I can bestow on thee. There is a smile,
A smile of nature too, which I can spare,
And yet, perhaps, thou wilt not thank me for it.
(Smiles contemptuously)

Rez. Not thank thee! It were surely most ungrateful
No thanks to pay for nobly giving me
What, well we see, has cost thee so much pain.
For nature hath her smiles, of birth more painful
Than bitt'rest execrations.

Freb. These idle words will lead us to disquiet:
Forbear, forbear, my friends. Go, Rezenvelt,