# Miscellaneous Plays/Rayner Act 2

ACT II.
SCENE I. A wood: dark night, with a pale gleam of distant lightning seen once or twice on the edge of the horizon. Advancing by the bottom of the stage, a few moving lights, as if from lanthorns, are seen and at the same time several signal-calls and loud whistles are heard, with the distant answer returned to them from another part of the wood: Enter Count Zaterloo, Rayner, Sebastian, and others of the band, armed, and a few of them bearing in their hands dark lanthorns. It is particularly requested if this play should ever be acted, that no light may be permitted upon the stage but that which proceeds from the lanterns only.
COUNT ZATERLOO (to Sebastian).
SEBASTIAN.
May credit give to either eye or ear? How oft we've been deceiv'd with our own voices, From rocky precipice or hollow cave, 'Midst the confused found of rustling leaves, And creaking boughs, and cries of nightly birds, Returning seeming answer!
COUNT ZATERLOO.
RAYNER.
COUNT ZATERLOO.
Of speech. Let's hear thy voice's sound, good man, To say thou art alive. Thou'rt marvellous silent: Didst thou not also hear them?
RAYNER.
All seems like the dark mingled mimicry Of fev'rish fleep; in which the half-doubting mind, Wilder'd and weary, with a deep-drawn breath, Says to itself, "Shall I not wake?"
COUNT ZATERLOO.
Wilt thou not keep thy soldier's spirit up? To-morow's sun will be thy waking time, And thou wilt wake a rich man and a free.
RAYNER.
And have no waking.
COUNT ZATERLOO.
RAYNER.
If my hand do the work that's fasten'd on me. Let's pass to it as quickly as thou wilt, And do not speak to me.——
Enter Bernard and others, armed &c.
COUNT ZATERLOO.
Of ever seeing you.
SEBASTIAN.
Now calling us on this side, now on that, As tho' you had from place to place still skipp'd, Like Will o'the Wisp, to lose us on our way.
BERNARD.
COUNT ZATERLOO.
BERNARD.
No gleaming torch gives notice from afar, Nor trampling hoofs found on the distant road.
COUNT ZATERLOO.
That haply we may learn, ere he approach,
What strength we have to face, and how he travels; And that we may not wander thus again, This aged oak shall be our meeting place; Where having join'd, we'll by a shorter compass Attack them near the centre of the wood.
SEBASTIAN.
And sultry stillness take the rule by turn; Whilst o'er our heads the black and heavy clouds Roll slowly on. This surely bodes a storm.
COUNT ZATERLOO.
To save this child of his, and from his journey Make him turn back, crossing our fortunes,
BERNARD.
For, be the tempest of the devil's raising, It will do thee no harm. To his good favour Thou hast (wrong not thy merit) claims too strong.
COUNT ZATERLOO.
Growl sky and earth and air, ne'er trouble ye; They are secure who have a friend at court. (Exeunt.
SCENE II. A different part of the wood, wild and savage: the Scene still darken'd, and a storm of thunder and lightning, accompanied with hail.
Enter RAYNER.
RAYNER.
I've miss'd their signal: this loud dunning din Devours all other sounds. Where shall I go? Athwart this arch of deep embodied darkness, Swift shiv'ring lightnings glare, from end to end Mantling the welkin o'er in vivid flames; Or from aloft, like sheeted cataracts Of liquid fire, seem pour'd. Ev'n o'er my head The soft and misty-textur'd clouds seem chang'd To piles of harden'd rocks, which from their base, Like the up breaking of a ruin'd world, Are hurl'd with force tremendous. Patt'ring hail Beats on my shrinking form with spiteful pith: Where shall I shelter me? Ha! thro' the trees Peers, near at hand, a small but settled light: I will make quickly towards it; perhaps There may be some lone dwelling in the wood. (Exit.
SCENE III. The inside of a cave: an Old man discoverd fitting by a small table made of coarse planks, with a lamp burning dimly upon it: the thunder heard still very loud.
OLD MAN.
O'er th' unblest head? Ay, thro' its deaf'ning roar I hear the blood-avenging Spirit's voice, And, as each furious turmoil spends its strength, Still sounds upon the far-receding storm Their distant growl. 'Tis hell that sends its fire and devils up To lord it in the air. The very wind, Rising in fitful eddies, horribly sounds, Like bursts of damn'd howlings from beneath. Is this a storm of nature's elements? O, no, no, no! the blood-avenging spirits Ride on the madding clouds: there is no place, Not in the wildest den, wherein may rest The unblest head. (Knocking heard without.) ———Ha! knocking at my door!
(Pauses and listens much alarmed: knocking heard still louder.)
Think'st thou the clouds are sparing of their din, That thou must thunder too? Say who thou art, And what thou would'st at such an hour as this, In such a place?
RAYNER (without).
Who humbly begs a shelter from the night.
OLD MAN.
RAYNER (without).
Would'st thou not save a creature from destruction, Ev'n a dumb animal? unbar the door, And let me lay my body under shelter.
(Old Man makes no answer: the storm heard very loud.)
RAYNER (without).
Thou canst not sit at peace beneath thy roof, And shut a stranger out to the rude night. I would, so circumstanced, have shelter'd thee.
OLD MAN.
(Aside.) (Aloud.) Thou art a knave; I will not let thee in.
RAYNER (without).
All men are honest in a night like this.
OLD MAN.
RAYNER.
OLD MAN.
RAYNER.
For breaking thus unask'd upon your rest. But wand'ring from my way, I know not how, And losing my companions of the road, Deep in the 'tangled wood the storm o'ertook me; When spying thro' the trees this glimm'ring lamp, And judging it, as now it doth appear, The mid-night taper of some holy man, Such as do oft in dreary wilds like this Hold their abode, I ventur'd onwards. (Old Man, offering him bread and dryed fruits.)
OLD MAN.
RAYNER.
OLD MAN.
Fall to, if thou hast any mind to it.
RAYNER.
OLD MAN.
RAYNER.
Could bear such value in my estimation, As that it should to me a straw's worth seem, To feed on homeliest, or on richest fare.
OLD MAN.
RAYNER.
The luxuries and follies of the world Have long been banish'd here.
(Old Man looks sternly at Rayner, who looks fixedly upon him again, and both remain for some time silent.)
OLD MAN.
What is there in my face that thou would'st scan? I'm old and live alone: what would'st thou know?
RAYNER.
That may disturb you.
OLD MAN.
RAYNER.
OLD MAN. (pointing to his couch).
RAYNER.
I will not take your bed.
(Old Man then gives Rayner a cloak, which he wraps about him, laying himself down in a corner of the cave. The storm now heard at a distance. After walking up and down for some time, the Old Man goes close up to Rayner, who appears asleep, and looks earnestly upon him; Rayner opening his eyes seems surprised.)
OLD MAN.
RAYNER (starting half up from the ground).
I can defend myself. (Grasping his sword.)
OLD MAN.
Did seem as tho' thou wert afraid of me. Rest thou in peace—rest thou in peace, young man: I would not do thee harm for many worlds.
(Rayner goes to rest again, still keeping his drawn sword in his hand. The Old Man goes to rest likewise, but shortly after starts from his couch in great agitation.)
OLD MAN.
I hear th'approaching sound of feet unearthly: I feel the pent-up vapour's chilly breath Burst from the yawning vault:—It is at hand.
(Turning towards the door as if he saw some one enter.)
With hand thus pointing to thy bloody side? Thy grave is deep enough in hallow'd ground! Why com'st thou ever on my midnight rest? What dost thou want? If thou hast power, as seeming, Stretch forth thine arm and take my life; then free From fleshy fears, in nature as thyself, I'll follow thee to hell, and there abide The searing flames: but here, upon this earth, Is placed between the living and the dead An awful mystery of separation, Which makes their meeting frightful and unhallow'd.
(In the vehemence of his agitation he throws out his arm and strikes it against Rayner, who alarmed at his ravings has left his resting-place, and stolen softly behind him.)
RAYNER.
And fixed eyeballs starting in their sockets, Who speak'st thus wildly to the vacant space, Say rather, what art thou.
OLD MAN.
There's no blood on me now! 'tis long since past. Hast thou thyself no crime, that thus from me Thou dost in horror shrink?
RAYNER.
OLD MAN.
RAYNER.
The storm did rage and bellow thro' the air, And the red lightning shiver'd: No traveller would venture on his way In such a night.—O, blessed, blessed storm! For yet it hath not been, and shall be never. Most great and Merciful! sav'd from this gulf, May I to thee look up?—No: in the dust—
(As he bows himself to the earth, and is about to kneel, the report of fire arms is heard without, and he starts up again.)
(Exit, beating his forehead violently.)
OLD MAN.
Is near my cave, committing violent deeds. Thy light, weak flame, shall not again betray me,
COUNT ZATERLOO.
Of such a powerful guard of armed men Attending on his journey. He is slain: Did'st thou not see him fall?
FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Fortune has play'd us false, yet we've escap'd: Here we may rest; this cave is tenanted With some lone being whom we may controul, And take possession——(discovering Old Man.) ———Something living here! What art thou?
OLD MAN.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.
COUNT ZATERLOO.
Which leads, I guess, to some more close recess: Lay me down there for I am very faint.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Not from my sight one moment must thou budge. Come on: for, mark me well, should'st thou betray us, Tho' fetter'd down with chains in grated dungeons, Our arms were long enough to reach to thee. (Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Another part of the wood; at a distance, on the back ground, are discovered two men watching a dead body by the light of a torch stuck between the boughs of a tree; the stage otherwise perfectly dark.
Enter GOBUS on the front of the stage.
GOBUS.
Enter a Companion.
COMPANION.
GOBUS.
COMPANION.
GOBUS.
COMPANION.
GOBUS.
(Horn heard without.)
COMPANION.
(Exeunt Companion and Gobus, who follows rather unwillingly, whilst the men who were watching the body run eagerly to the front of the stage.)
FIRST MAN.
SECOND MAN.
FIRST MAN.
Enter Bertram, Gobus, and others, with Rayner as their prisoner.)
GOBUS (speaking as they enter).
FIRST MAN.
GOBUS.
BERTRAM (putting him away with indignation).
GOBUS.
BERTRAM.
GOBUS.
BERTRAM.
RAYNER.
BERTRAM.
RAYNER.
BERTRAM.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.