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Percy, pray let him rest. His sword doth lie
SIR WILLIAM (draws).
'T were pity that your manners with your steel Do not agree.
(Fights one set, and disarms Sir William
at commencement of second.) Thy life is mine. Sir William, go thy way, And learn from me-forbearance.
(Retires flat.) PERCY (presenting sword to Sir William). Good evening, Sir William Stanton.
SIR WILLIAM. We shall meet again—(to Percy).
(Exit Sir William L. H.
Ay, less than that.
I'll truly play my part.
Then hover o'er me spirits of the air !
(Exeunt R. H.)
SCENE II.-A desolate part of the coast by the Wash. Violent Storm.
Thunder and Lightning. Voices answer.
Enter Three or Four Smugglers, R. and L.
SMUGGIER. Pshaw ! they be always found when their service be not required. There a’nt a man among 'em who would n't send his brother to the deuce for a few angels.
Loike enuff: angels are great composers.
(Noise outside.) Old Blazeaway's just come ashore! What a lucky man he be! He makes inkimmin clean runs! Got all the silk, and brandy, and lace, safe as a Briton! He comes.
Enter GRIMES (speaks to Smugglers). Here, fellows, see to those barrels—be quick; Roll them gently along the beach. This was
(Exit first Smuggler.) Most fearful work! You, sirrah, tell Staggers
(Exit second Smuggler.) I shall change my dress at his house! You
(Exit third Smuggler.) To Sir William Stanton—say I shall be there anon. My return will startle them, or I mistake. If that does not, these smuggled laces will !
SCENE III.-An old-fashioned sitting-room in the house of Grimes. Iola is seated on a sofa with Margaret—both are working. Sir William Stanton is leaning over the back of a chair-hat in his hand. Thunder, at
intervals, throughout this Scene.
'Tis not that I expect you'd bear that love,
But yet, my sweetest life, you might transfer
SIR WILLIAM. Oh! give me but your hand!
That I will never do !
IOLA (with most determined eagerness).
Were near me now! Oh! that he did live!
SIR WILLIAM (retiring).
IOLA. Do you love me, Margaret ?
Were you a child of mine, I could no better !
Wouldst sell thy child for gold?
Not for a world of it.
Then save me, Margaret !
I cannot rescue thee !
The gipsy said, last night, I ne'er should wed
Thou shalt not play me off! Wilt save me?
MARGARET. It is your father's will! You must consent ! IOLA (starting up—laying one hand on Margaret's shoulder
and fastening her eye on her). I never-never will! I tell thee, Margaret,