Norval. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen. Norval.

Norval. So I am

And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?

Glen. A peasant's son, a wand'ring beggar-boy, At best no more, even if he speaks the truth.

Norval. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my

truth?

Glen. Thy truth! thou 'rt all a lie; and false as hell

Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
Nor. If I were chained, unarmed, and bedrid old,
Perhaps I should revile: but as I am

I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval
Is of a race who strive not but with deeds.

Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valor,

And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
I'd tell thee-what thou art. I know thee well.

Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to command

Ten thousand slaves like thee—

Norval. Villain, no more!

Draw and defend thy life. I did design

To have defied thee in another cause:

But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.

Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs.

[Enter LORD RANDOLPH.

Lord Rand. Hoid, I command you both. The man that stirs

Makes me his foe.

A. A 13.

Norval. Another voice than thine

That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph. Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wond'rous con

descending!

Mark the humility of shepherd Norval!

Norval. Now you may scoff in safety.

Lord Rand. Speak not thus,

[Sheathes his sword.

Taunting each other; but unfold to me

The cause of quarrel, then I judge betwixt you. Norval. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,

My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
I blush to speak; I will not, can not speak

The opprobrious words that I from him have borne.
To the liege-lord of my dear native land
I owe a subject's homage; but even him.
And his high arbitration I'd reject.
Within my bosom reigns another lord;
Honor, sole judge and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favors, and let Norval go

Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonored.

Lord Rand. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial

voice:

The ancient foe of Caledonia's land

Now waves his banners o'er her frighted fields.

Suspend your purpose, till your country's arms
Repel the bold invader; then decide
The private quarrel.

Glen. I agree to this.

Norval. And I.

Servant. The banquet waits.

Lord Rand. We come.

[Enter SERVANT.

Glen. Norval,

[Exit RANDOLPH and SERVANT.

Let not our variance mar the social hour,
Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph.
Nor frowning anger, nor yet wrinkled hate,

Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow;
Nor let our strife disturb the gentle dame.

Norval. Think not so lightly, sir, of my resentment;

When we contend again, our strife is mortal.

COSTUME.

[Exeunt.

FOR an idea of correct costume, for the male characters, see illustration on page 128. Lady Randolph should wear a long robe dress, gathered round the waist, and fastened with a belt of leather and silver, mixed like a chain. Over this a long mantle, embroidered, and fastened by a brooch on the breast. She may also wear a necklace and bracelets.

MATRIMONIAL INFELICITIES.

From Sheridan's School for Scandal.

LADY TEAZLE.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

SIR PETER TEAZLE.

SCENE:-A Room in SIR PETER'S House. Enter LADY TEAZLE and SIR PETER, L.

Sir Peter. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it!

Lady T. (R.) Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please; but I ought to have my own way in every thing; and, what's more, I will, too. What! though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married.

Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well-so a husband is to have no influence, no authority?

Lady T. Authority! No, to be sure:-if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me: I am sure you were old enough.

Sir P. Old enough! ay-there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy

by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance.

Lady T. My extravagance! I'm sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman of fashion ought to be.

Sir P. No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. Why, you spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pantheon into a green-house, and give a fête champêtre at Christmas.

Lady T. And, am I to blame, Sir Peter, because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm sure, I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet.

Sir P. Oons! Madam-if you had been born to this, I should n't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married

you.

Lady T. No, no, I do n't; 't was a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you.

Sir P. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler style:-the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first, sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side; your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted of your own working.