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SIR WILLIAM.
I am glad thou art arrived, good Master Grimes !

GRIMES. How does it fare with lola ?

SIR WILLIAM.
Like a wild sea, swept o'er by wilder storms,
So is her sad heart, with her fevered mind!
Now frantically she calls on you !

GRIMES.

Well !

SIR WILLIAM. Then her wild passion masters her sad soul; And, with clasped hands, she swears by the pure heaven No power

shall make her wed me!

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Master Grimes, I pray your pity.

GRIMES.
Sir William Stanton ! that I am no child,
But firm of purpose, and of fixed resolve,
No more to be changed than the polar star,
Thou long hast known! Thus much I tell thee !
I have an end to gain by this same marriage ;-
What it is you need not know as yet;
Sufficient that you win a fortune and a bride,
Both rich beyond compare. What would you more?

SIR WILLIAM.
Is there no way to avoid this sad extremity ?

GRIMES, (R.)
There is !

SIR WILLIAM. Name it! oh, name it !

GRIMES. The dungeon Now, to Iola.

(Exeunt R. H.)

SCENE III.-Another room in the Royal Oak. Lola is discovered on a sofa,

Annette leaning over her.

ANNETTE.

Our inn, the Royal Oak, it has not seen
So sad a day for many a long year.

IOLA.

Hast tears for me? Good girl, approach me then,
And sit thee down, and listen to my tale;
'T will make thy gentle eyes o'erflow their bounds,
Like rivers swollèn with the summer rains.
But stay! Art SURE those glossy locks tell true ?
Those speaking eyes—thy smooth and dimpled cheek-
Thy lips of living scarlet—and thy form
So maidenly—are they other than they seem ?

ANNETTE.

Why SHOULD they be, dear lady?

IOLA (impassioned).
Alas! alas! I was deceived once.
Bright curling hair, a face as fair as thine,
Where damask roses flushed red life along !
A form perfection; and a voice more sweet
Than the sad nightingale in full flood of

song. Ah! breaking heart—and canst thou deem him false ?

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And yet he did deceive me:
For under the disguise of woman's garb
He won my heart—then kept it as his own.
And yet, though false, he proved as true as truth.

ANNETTE.

Sweet lady, did your father know of this?

IOLA.

No, no.

Here—here does pallid sorrow shew its face !
Dead-dead with weeping! Drowned with its tears !
Here 'gins my desolation ! Here breaks my heart !
Oh, like those wrecking barks we used to see,
Tossed like light feathers to the lurid sky,
When the wild waves of ocean, lashed by storms,
Leaped in each others' arms, and rent the clouds;
So lost, so desolate, am I.

ANNETTE.
Oh, check these bitter tears.

IOLA.

Soon as he found my love for him was fixed,
He threw off his disguise—fell at my feet;
Swore that, for him, my love was more than life;
Pleaded his passion in a storm of grief;
"Till, frighted by the nature of the change,
And yet, half pleased to find the change was thus,
I spoke—I knew not what. Swift to his heart-
That heart of fire-he pressed me—when-

ANNETTE.

What ?

IOLA.

The chamber door was suddenly burst ope,
And there my father stood !

ANNETTE. That was most fortunate !

IOLA.

O! that dread gaze !
Those brows of thunder, and those lightning eyes !
Yet when my father heard his tale of love;
How he had dared—and daring overcame;
He felt his daughter's heart no longer stood
A fortress of her own, and then he gave me to him.

ANNETTE.
That was noble—very noble !

IOLA.

A few bright moments, and my lover left.
Then along the corridor methought I heard
The noise of footsteps. The door was burst.
Another instant, in some ruffian's arms
And grasp of iron I was soon secured.
My cries were stilled—no friendly hand
Was there to aid me.

ANNETTE.

Where was your father ?

IOLA.

Alas ! I know not.

(Noise withoutIola starts.) What noise is that? Again-again !

(Clings round Annette.) Save me! Save me! Thou kind and gentle girl! On thee-on thee, hangs all my hope of life! Devise some plan, however desperate ! Some means

ť escapewhate'er those means may be ! That I may free me from the deadening draught Of BITTER mockery I seem DOOMED to drink !

(Noise increases.) They come! they come! Annette ! Oh, think on this: If ever thou shalt love, and be beloved ! By all the hopes which thy young heart enjoys, Oh rescue, gentle girl, lost lola!

(Enter Grimes L. F.; he walks slowly to Tola, who

has buried her face in Annette's bosom. Grimes touches Iola.)

GRIMES.

Iola !

IOLA (looks up and screams.)
Ha--(falls on his neck.)
My father—my dear father!

GRIMES.
Iola, these tears are weak !

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