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To the livery of our house?

      Old Bathory. Even such respect 125

       As the sheep’s skin should gain for the hot wolf

       That hath begun to worry the poor lambs!

      Laska. Old insolent ruffian!

      Glycine. Pardon! pardon, madam!

       I saw the whole affray. The good old man

       Means no offence, sweet lady! — You, yourself, 130

       Laska! know well, that these men were the ruffians!

       Shame on you!

      Sarolta. What! Glycine? Go, retire! [Exit GLYCINE.

       Be it then that these men faulted. Yet yourself,

       Or better still belike the maidens’ parents,

       Might have complained to us. Was ever access 135

       Denied you? Or free audience? Or are we

       Weak and unfit to punish our own servants?

      Old Bathory. So then! So then! Heaven grant an old man patience!

       And must the gardener leave his seedling plants,

       Leave his young roses to the rooting swine 140

       While he goes ask their master, if perchance

       His leisure serve to scourge them from their ravage?

      Laska. Ho! Take the rude clown from your lady’s presence!

       I will report her further will!

      Sarolta. Wait then,

       Till thou hast learnt it! Fervent good old man! 145

       Forgive me that, to try thee, I put on

       A face of sternness, alien to my meaning!

      [Then speaks to the Servants.

      Hence! leave my presence! and you, Laska! mark me!

       Those rioters are no longer of my household!

       If we but shake a dewdrop from a rose 150

       In vain would we replace it, and as vainly

       Restore the tear of wounded modesty

       To a maiden’s eye familiarized to licence. —

       But these men, Laska —

      Laska (aside). Yes, now ‘tis coming.

      Sarolta. Brutal aggressors first, then baffled dastards, 155

       That they have sought to piece out their revenge

       With a tale of words lured from the lips of anger

       Stamps them most dangerous; and till I want

       Fit means for wicked ends, we shall not need

       Their services. Discharge them! You, Bathory! 160

       Are henceforth of my household! I shall place you

       Near my own person. When your son returns,

       Present him to us!

      Old Bathory. Ha! what strangers here!Your goodness, lady — and it came so sudden — 165

       I can not — must not — let you be deceived.

       I have yet another tale, but — [Then to SAROLTA aside.

       not for all ears!

      Sarolta. I oft have passed your cottage, and still praised

       Its beauty, and that trim orchard-plot, whose blossoms

       The gusts of April showered aslant its thatch. 170

       Come, you shall show it me! And, while you bid it

       Farewell, be not ashamed that I should witness

       The oil of gladness glittering on the water

       Of an ebbing grief. [BATHORY shows her into his cottage.

      Laska (alone). Vexation! baffled! school’d!

       Ho! Laska! wake! why? what can all this mean? 175

       She sent away that cockatrice in anger!

       Oh the false witch! It is too plain, she loves him.

       And now, the old man near my lady’s person,

       She’ll see this Bethlen hourly!

      [LASKA flings himself into the seat. GLYCINE peeps in.

      Glycine. Laska! Laska!

       Is my lady gone?

      Laska. Gone.

      Glycine. Have you yet seen him? 180

       Is he returned? [LASKA starts up.

       Has the seat stung you, Laska?

      Laska. No, serpent! no; ‘tis you that sting me; you!

       What! you would cling to him again?

      Glycine. Whom?

      Laska. Bethlen! Bethlen!

       Yes; gaze as if your very eyes embraced him! 185

       Ha! you forget the scene of yesterday!

       Mute ere he came, but then — Out on your screams,

       And your pretended fears!

      Glycine. Your fears, at least,

       Were real, Laska! or your trembling limbs

       And white cheeks played the hypocrites most vilely! 190

      Laska. I fear! whom? what?

      Glycine. I know what I should fear,

       Were I in Laska’s place.

      Laska. What?

      Glycine. My own conscience,

       For having fed my jealousy and envy

       With a plot, made out of other men’s revenges,

       Against a brave and innocent young man’s life! 195

       Yet, yet, pray tell me!

      Laska. You will know too soon.

      Glycine. Would I could find my lady! though she chid me —

       Yet this suspense — [Going.

      Laska. Stop! stop! one question only —

       I am quite calm —

      Glycine. Ay, as the old song says,

       Calm as a tiger, valiant as a dove. 200

       Nay now, I have marred the verse: well! this one question —

      Laska. Are you not bound to me by your own promise?

       And is it not as plain —

      Glycine. Halt! that’s two questions.

      Laska. Pshaw! Is it not as plain as impudence,

       That you’re in love with this young swaggering beggar, 205

       Bethlen Bathory? When he was accused,

       Why pressed you forward? Why did you defend him?

      Glycine. Question meet question: that’s a woman’s privilege,

       Why, Laska, did you urge Lord Casimir

       To make my lady force that promise from me? 210

      Laska. So then, you say, Lady Sarolta, forced you?

      Glycine. Could I look up to her dear countenance,

       And say her nay? As far back as I wot of

       All her commands were gracious, sweet requests.

       How could it be then, but that her requests 215

       Must needs have sounded to me as commands?

       And as for love, had I a score of loves,

      

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