ould any arm,
No, not a father's, dare dispute with mine,
The privilege to die in her defence.
None dares accuse Elwina, but--

_Raby._ But who?

_Dou._ But Douglas.

_Raby._ [_puts his hand to his sword._]
You?--O spare my age's weakness!
You do not know what 'tis to be a father;
You do not know, or you would pity me,
The thousand tender throbs, the nameless feelings,
The dread to ask, and yet the wish to know,
When we adore and fear; but wherefore fear?
Does not the blood of Raby fill her veins?

_Dou._ Percy;--know'st thou that name?

_Raby._ How? What of Percy?

_Dou._ He loves Elwina, and, my curses on him!
He is belov'd again.

_Raby._ I'm on the rack!

_Dou._ Not the two Theban brothers bore each other
Such deep, such deadly hate as I and Percy.

_Raby._ But tell me of my child.

_Dou._ [_not minding him._] As I and Percy!
When at the marriage rites, O rites accurs'd!
I seiz'd her trembling hand, she started back,
Cold horror thrill'd her veins, her tears flow'd fast.
Fool that I was, I thought 'twas maiden fear;
Dull, doting ignorance! beneath those terrors,
Hatred for me and love for Percy lurk'd.

_Raby._ What proof of guilt is this?

_Dou._ E'er since our marriage,
Our days have still been cold and joyless all;
Painful restraint, and hatred ill disguis'd,
Her sole return for all my waste of fondness.
This very morn I told her 'twas your will
She should repair to court; with all those graces,
Which first subdued my soul, and still enslave it,
She begg'd to stay behind in Raby Castle,
For courts and cities had no charms for her.
Curse my blind love! I was again ensnar'd,
And doted on the sweetness which deceiv'd me.
Just at the hour she thought I should be absent,
(For chance could ne'er have tim'd their guilt so well,)
Arriv'd young Harcourt, one of Percy's knights,
Strictly enjoin'd to speak to none but her;
I seiz'd the miscreant: hitherto he's silent,
But tortures soon shall force him to confess!

_Raby._ Percy is absent--They have never met.

_Dou._ At what a feeble hold you grasp for succour!
Will it content me that her person's pure?
No, if her alien heart dotes on another,
She is unchaste, were not that other Percy.
Let vulgar spirits basely wait for proof,
She loves another--'tis enough for Douglas.

_Raby._ Be patient.

_Dou._ Be a tame convenient husband,
And meanly wait for circumstantial guilt?
No--I am nice as the first Caesar was,
And start at bare suspicion.