Page:A Series of Plays on the Passions Volume 3.pdf/42

10

This day's disgrace mars all my goodly dreams. My path to greatness is at once shut up. Still in the dust my grov'ling fortune lies. (Striking his breast in despair) Tame thine aspiring spirit, luckless wretch! There is no hope for thee! And shall I tame it! No, by saints and devils! The laws have cast me off from every claim Of house and kindred, and within my veins Turn'd noble blood to baseness and reproach: I'll cast them off: why should they be to me A bar, and no protection? Aye; this may still within my toils enthral her: This is the secret weakness of her mind On which I'll clutch my hold.

Cath.Ha! speak'st thou to thyself?

''Rud. (starting)'' I did not speak.

Cath. Thou did'st; thy busy mind gave sound to thoughts Which thou didst utter with a thick harsh voice, Like one who speaks in sleep. Tell me their meaning.

Rud. And dost thou so presume? Be wise; be humble. (After a pause) Has Orra oft of late requested thee