ALASCO:

A TRAGEDY.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Day-break—the entrance of a cavern-a Peasant armed with a pike, as on guard-a shrill whistle is heard to sound at a distance—the Guard looks out eagerly, and answers by a corresponding signal-a number of Peasants armed with different weapons are immediately seen in the distance, winding down among the rocks— they enter at the front of the stage, headed by two of their chiefs, Conrad and Malinski.

CONRAD (speaking to one of the Peasants.)

CALL in the scouts

By Heaven, the moon's a prodigal to-night,

And showers her silver lavishly.

MALINSKI.

"Tis the dawn

That breaks above the hill.

B

CONRAD.

Why, what's the hour?

MALINSKI.

Four, by the Abbey clock.

CONRAD.

Then we again

Have loiter'd at our sport.-But who comes here,

Outstripping haste?

[Enter a scout, hastily.

66

Why, comrade, if thy news

"Should wear but half the importance of thy face, "We must have a gazette for it. If thou'st breath, "Proclaim."

SCOUT.

As posted on the hill I stood,
Close housed within the hollow of an oak,
I heard a rustling in the brake below me;
When, on the instant, flashing from a cloud,
The moon cut sharp upon the forest wall
The shadow of a man; crouching he seemed,
And stole his cautious way, as if he knew
The place no solitude: I darted forth,
And at a venture sent this trusty pike
Upon the search before me ;-it fell short;
When he, up-springing at the noise, flew off,

And bounding o'er the crumbled fence, escaped me.

MALINSKI.

A spy, no doubt, of Hohendahl's.

CONRAD.

"No matter;

"We can't so smother a fire but it will smoke,

"Or some sharp nose shall snuff it in the wind." Canst throw a guess at him?

SCOUT.

His sudden flight,

Baffling all near approach, concealed him from me;
But at the moment, Rudolph crossed my mind,
The Baron's game-keeper.

MALINSKI.

"Twas he, most likely.

CONRAD.

Well, let him to the Baron with his tale!

The flame has spread beyond his power to quench,
And soon shall scorch him.

But now, my friends and comrades, to your homes!
And though your wrongs are throbbing at your hearts,
Repress the impatient spirit, and await

The hour of vengeance, now so near at hand. *What little skill the patriot sword requires,

What little skill, &c.-Here our new licenser commences his operations; here the vigilant guardian of the public weal,-the judicious Dogberry of the new dramatic police, first springs the rattle of

Our zeal may boast, in midnight vigils schooled.
Those deeper tactics, well contrived to work
The mere machine of mercenary war,

We shall not need, whose hearts are in the fray,—
Who for ourselves, our homes, our country, fight,
And feel in every blow, we strike for freedom.
Bestow your weapons safe within the cave,
And then disperse in silence.

[They place their arms within the cave, and dis-
perse. Conrad and Malinski remain.

CONRAD.

Now, my friend,

Our project ripens-every district round

Has answered," Ready ;" and when next we meet

In our cave-cabinet, we fix the fate

Of Poland. Are the leaders summoned ?

MALINSKI.

""Twould seem the governor is on the alert, "And doubtless his inspector will, to-night, "Report us fit for service.

CONRAD.

"If he does,

All.

"We'll justify his praise, and prove our mettle."

his function, and proceeds to "comprehend" such "auspicious" passages as the above, which he declares "flat burglary as ever was committed."

MALINSKI.

But where's our chief, Alasco ?

"If we rest

“On him, as our best guide in this great enterprize,” It seems full time he shew himself amongst us.

CONRAD.

You'll find the Count Alasco at his post,

When fit occasion serves, or danger calls him.

MALINSKI.

"Why, truly, not to dwell on cramps or tooth-aches,
Methinks some dangers hang about our heads,
In these chill midnight hatchings of revolt,

Which 'twould become his chivalry to share,
For lack of nobler peril.

CONRAD.

You sneer, Malinski,

And grow cynical; but let your wit be wise—

I am Alasco's friend.

MALINSKI.

Why, so am I.

I trust we're all his friends. But to be plain,
His absence grows mysterious-'tis remarked,
And breeds distrust in our confederates.

Distrust! Of whom?

CONRAD.

MALINSKI.

Of him-of you-of me.

Once give suspicion wing-she flies at random.