The British Drama: Illustrated

ARDEN OF FEVERSHAM.

AN HISTORICAL TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.-BY GEO. LILLO.

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ACT I.

SCENE I.-The Street before Arden's door. MOSBY discovered.

BRADSHAW.

BLACK WILL.

SHAKEBAG.

Mos. The morning's dark and horrid as my purpose.

Thrice have my snares been laid for Arden's life,
And thrice hath he escap'd. I am not safe:
The living may revenge. Oh, could I win
Alicia to conspire her husband's fall,
Then might I say, security, thou'rt mine;
And laugh at all to come. For other instruments,
There's Green: he bears him hard about his suit
For th' abbey-lands, to which the hot youth pleads
No. 12.-THE BRITISH DRAMA,

ADAM FOWL OFFICERS. SERVANT.

ALICIA.

MARIA.

Some fancied right. Michael, the trencher fav'rite;
A bastard, bred of Arden's charity;
He has been privy to our secret joys,
And, on that trust presuming, loves my sister;
Maria is his price. I've plac'd her here,
Winks at adultery, and may at murder.
Companion of my sweet Alicia's hours,
To spread her charms for ever in his eye:
To her are all my visits. But Alicia-

She must, she shall comply: when to my arms
Her honour she resign'd, her fond reluctance
whisper'd

She could deny me nothing.

This to try.

[Exit into Arden's house.

SCENE II.-A Chamber.

ARDEN in his night-gown.

Plead not the ruin you have made; but say
Why have you driven me to these extremes?
Why sacrificed my peace, and your own fame,

Ard. Unhappy Arden, whither canst thou By corresponding with a menial slave?

wander

To lay thy heavy load of sorrows down?
Will change of place relieve th' afflicted mind,
Or does all nature yield a balm to cure
The pangs of slighted love and broken faith?
Ungrateful, faise Alicia! false with Mosby,
The vile dependant of my foe profess'd;
Lord Clifford's full-fed flatt'rer! Oh, damn'd--
Come, Franklin, come: Arden, thy friend, invites
thee;

And let me pour my griefs into thy bosom,
And find in friendship what I've lost in love.

Enter ALICIA.

Ali. Why, Arden, do you leave your bed thus
early?

Have cold and darkness greater charms than I?
There was a time when winter nights were short,
And Arden chid the morn that call'd him from

me.

Ard. This deep dissembling, this hypocrisy, (The last worst state of a degenerate mind) Speaks her in vice determin'd and mature.

(Aside.)

Ali. What maid, that knows man's variable
nature,

Would sell her free estate for marriage bonds?
From vows and oaths, and every servile tie,
The tyrant man at pleasure is set free:

The holy nuptial bond leaves him at large;

Yet vests him with a power that makes us slaves. 'Tis heavenly this

Ard. To stop my just reproach,

Art thou the first to tax the marriage state?
Ali. Are you not jealous?

ear

Ali. Thou canst not think that I have wrong'd

thy bed?

Ard. Would I could not!

Ali. By heaven!

Ard. No perjuries.

But now, as you lay slumb'ring by my side,

I still awake, anxious and full of thought,
(For thou hast banish'd sleep from these sad

eyes,)

With gentle accents thrilling with desire,

You call'd on Mosby; love made me doubt my

ears,

And question if the dark and silent night
Conspir'd not with my fancy to deceive me:
But soon I lost the painful, pleasing hope;
Again you call'd upon your minion, Mosby.
Confirm'd, I strove to fly your tainted bed,
But, wanting strength, sunk lifeless on my pillow.
You threw your eager arms about my neck,
You press'd my bloodless cheeks with your warm
lips,

Which glow'd, adult'ress, with infernal heat!
And call'd a third time on the villain Mosby.

Ali. A dream, indeed, if e'er I call'd on him.
Ard. Thy guilty dreams betray thy waking
thoughts.

Ali. I know I'm simple, thoughtless, and un-
guarded;

And what is carelessness, you construe guilt.
Yet were I weak as those fantastic visions,
Sure, I could ne'er have condemn'd you, Arden,
On circumstances and an idle dream.

Ard. But such a dream!

Ali. Yet were it but a dream,
Which, tho' I not remember, I abbor;

Do you not give And mourn with tears, because it gives you pain.
Arden, you do not wish me innocent
Or on suspicions could you doom me guilty?
Ard. Not wish thee innocent! Do sinking

To vain surmises and malicious tongues,
That hourly wound my yet untainted fame?

Ard. And would'st thou make me author of the
shame

Thy guilt has brought on us? I'll bear no longer.
The traitor, Mosby, curs'd, detested Mosby,
Shall render an account for both your crimes.
Ali. What do I hear?

Ard. That base, mechanic slave

Shall answer with his blood.

Ali. Oh, hear me speak.

(Aside.)

Ard. No, I am deaf; as thou hast ever been
To fame, to virtue, and my just complaints.
Ali. Thus, on my knees-

Ard. Adult'ress, dost thou kneel

And weep, and pray, and bend thy stubborn heart
(Stubborn to me) to sue for him? Away!
Away this instant, lest I kill thee, too.

(Recovering himself.) No; not the hell thou'st kindled in this bosom Shall make me shed thy blood.

Ali. I do not hope it.

Ard. For me be as immortal as thy shame.
Ali. I see your cruel purpose: I must live,

To see your hand and honour tain'd with blood;

Your ample fortune seiz'd on by the state;
Your life a forfeit to the cruel laws.

Oh, Arden, blend compassion with your rage,
And kindly kill me first.

Ard. Not for my sake

Are all thy tears; then had you felt them sooner:

mariners,

When struggling with the raging seas for life,
Wish the assistance of some friendly plank?
'Tis that, and that alone, can bring me comfort.

Ali. Oh, jealousy, thou fierce, remorseless fiend,
Degen'rate, most unnatural child of love;
How shall I chase thee from my Arden's bosom?
Ard. There is a way, an easy way, Alicia.
Ali. Oh, name it-speak.

Ard. What's past may be forgotten.

Your future conduct

Ali. You distract me, Arden.

Say, how shall I convince you of my truth?
Ard. I ask but this: never see Mosby more.
By heaven, she's dumb!

Alt. Oh, how shall I conceal
My own confusion, and elude his rage?

Serv. (To Maria.) Madam, your brother MosbyAli. Where is Mosby?

Serv. He waits below.

Ali. Oh! haste, and lead me to him.

Serv. Madam, he but desires to see his sister. Ali. His sister! What, did he not ask for me? Mar. Perhaps

Ali. Pray, give me leave-looks he in health? Serv. He seems in health.

Ali. Here, and not ask for me!

Seems he or angry, then, or melancholy?
Answer me. stock, stone!

Serv. Truly, I can't say.

Ali. Thou canst say nothing. Get thee from my sight.

Yet, stay-no matter. I'll myself go seek him. [Exeunt Alicia and Serv. Mar. Where reason is, can passion thus prevail? [Exit.

SCENE III-A Parlour in Arden's House.

Enter ALICIA meeting MOSBY.

Ali. Mosby, that brow befits our wayward fate. The evil hour, long fear'd, is fall'n upon us, And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frown; If you're unkind, to whom shall I complain?

name,

The cause abhorr'd of shame, of blood, and ruin, Thou'lt be expos'd and hooted thro' the world.

Ali. Oh! hide the dreadful image from my view Chaste matrons, modest maids, and virtuous wives,

Scorning a weakness, which they never knew,
Shall blush with indignation at my name.
Mos. My death-but that, tho' certain-
Ali. Labour not

To drive me to despair. Fain would I hope-
Mos. You may-and be deceiv'd. For me, I
know

My fate's resolv'd: and thee the instrument;
The willing instrument of Mosby's ruin.
Inconstant, false Alicia!

Ali. False indeed;

But not to thee, cruel, injurious Mosby.

Mos. Injurious! false one, might not all these dangers

That threaten to involve us both in ruin,
Ere this have been prevented?

Ali. Ha! Say on.

Mos. And not preventing, art not thou the cause? Ali. Ah! whither, Mosby, whither would'st thou drive me?

Mos. Nay, didst thou love, or would'st secure thy fame,

Preserve my life, and bind me yours for ever, 'Tis yet within your power.

Ali. By Arden's death!

Mean'st thou not so? speak out, and be a devil.
Mos. Yes, 'tis for thee I am so. But your looks
Declare, my death would please you better, madam.
Ali. Exaggerating fiend! be dumb for ever.
His death! I must not cast a glance that way.

Mos. Is there another way? Oh! think, Alicia. Ali. I will, for that will make me mad: and madness

Were some excuse.

come,

Come, kind distraction!

Mos. My friend seems rapt in thought: I came to advise him,

That Green, by virtue of a former grant

His father long enjoy'd-

Ard. For my estate,

The law and this good seal is my security;

To them I leave Green and his groundless claim.
But my just right to false Alicia's heart,

(So dearly purchas'd with a husband's name,
And sacred honour of a gentleman,)

I shall assert myself, and thus secure

From further violation.

Mos. Her known virtue

Renders the injury your fancy forms,

A thing of air.

Frank. Impossible to thought.

My spirits fail-I shake-I must retire.
Frank. To your Alicia?

For I must learn to live without her, Franklin.
Ard. To my lonely couch;
Frank. Pray heaven forbid!

Ard. To hate her, to forget her, if I can:

No easy task for one who doats like me.
From what a height I'm fallen! Once smiling
love

Of all its horrors robb'd the blackest night,
And gilt with gladness ev'ry ray of light,
Now tyrant-like his conquest he maintains,
And o'er his groaning slave with rods of iron reigus
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The Street.

Enter GREEN and MOSBY.

Green. You pity me, and know not my estate.
I'm ruin'd, Mosby, thoughtless and ill-advis'd;
My riotous youth will leave my age a beggar.
These abbey-lands were all the hopes I'd left:
My whole support.

Mos. Base and ungen'rous Arden!
To force a man, born equal to himself,

(Draus.) To beg or starve.

Green. By heaven! I will do neither:
I'll let the proud oppressor know-
Mos. How blind is rage!

Who threats his enemy, lends him a sword

Whence, Arden, comes this sudden madness on To guard himself.

thee,

That your Alicia, ever dear esteem'd,
And deeply lov'd-

Ard. Out on the vile adult'ress!

But thou demure, insinuating slave, (To Mosby.)
Shalt taste my vengeance first. Defend thyself.
Mos. I scorn to take advantage of your rage.
Ard. A coward, too. Oh! my consummate
shame.

Mos. This I can bear from you.
Ard. Or any man.

Why hangs that useless weapon by your side,
Thou shame to manhood? Draw. Will nothing
move thee?
(Strikes Mosby.)
Frank. Hold! Whither would your mad revenge
transport you?

Ard. Shall shameful cowardice protect a villain!
Mos. You choose a proper place to shew your
courage.

Ard. Go on. I'll follow to the ocean's brink,
Or to the edge of some dread precipice,
Where terror and despair shall stop thy flight,
And force thy trembling hand to guard thy life.

Enter BRADSHAW.

Brad. Save, save you, gentlemen. Mos. We thank you, neighbour. But whither in such haste?

Brad. To the isle of Sheppey,

To wait on good Lord Cheyney. As he holds
In high esteem our worthy townsman, Arden,
I shall first call on him. "Tis well I met you,
For yonder two were but bad road-companions,
Green. They seem of desp'rate fortunes.
Mos. Have they names?

Brad. One I know not; but judge him from his comrade.

The foremost of the two I knew at Boulogne,
Where, in the late king's reign, I serv'd myself.
He was a corporal then, but such a villain!
Beneath a soldier's name: a common cut-throat,
That preys on all mankind, and knows no party.
Mos. A horrid character you give him, Brad-
shaw.

Brad. No worse than he deserves.
Mos. (Aside. An useful hint:
He shall not want employment.

name?

What's his

Brad. Why, you are not easily_forgotten, Will. But, pr'ythee, what brings thee to Feversham?

B. Will. A soldier, you know, is at home whereever he comes. Omne solum forti patri. There's Latin. Give's a tester.

Brad. In time of peace we should apply to some honest, creditable business, and not turn the name of soldier into vagabond.

B. Will. Yes, as you have done. I'm told, you keep a goldsmith's shop here in Feversham; and, like a mechanical rogue, live by cheating. I have more honour.

Brad. Would thou hadst honesty!

B. Will. Where do our honesties differ? I take a purse behind a hedge, and you behind a coun

ter.

Brad. Insolent slave!

B. Will. You cent. per cent. rascal! I may find a time to teach you better manners.

And courage writ upon your manly brows.

B. Will. What hellish villany has this fellow in hand, that makes him fawn upon us? (Aside.) Mosby. I fear the world's a stranger to your merit.

If this may recommend me to your friendship(Gives a pause.)

B. Will. Of what damn'd deed is this to be the wages?

Shake. Hast ever an elder brother's throat to cut?

B. Will. Or an old peevish father to be buried? Mosby. Neither of these.

Shake. A rival then, mayhap.

Mosby. There your come nearer to me.
Sake. Then speak out.

We're honest, sir.

B. Will. Trusty, and very poor.

Mosby. Metal too fit for me. (Aside.) Then, hear

me, sir.

But you must both, ere I disclose my purpose, Promise, and bind that promise by your oaths, Never-(They both laugh.)—Why this unseasonable mirth?

B. Will. You'd have us swear?

Mosby. Else why did I propose it?

B. Will. There's the jest. Are men who act in despite of all law, honour, and conscience; who live by blood; (as it is plain you think we do ;) are we free-thinkers, like silly wenches and canting priests, to be confined by oaths?

Shake. Would you bind us, let the price equal the purchase, and we'll go to hell for you with pleasure.

Mosby. Horrid! they shock ev'n me who would
employ 'em.
(Aside.)

I apprehend: the business, then, is this:
In Feversham, there lives a man, call'd Arden,
In general esteem, and ample means;
And has a wife the very pride of nature.

I have been happy long in her affections;
And, he once dead, might with her share his for-
tunes.

He's jealous, too, of late, and threatens me.
Love, int'rest, self-defence, all ask his death.
B. Will. This man you'd have despatch'd?
Mos. I would.

B. Will. Rich, you say?

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The British Drama: Illustrated, Volume 2