The British Drama: Illustrated

be done.

Mos., Some safer place; the street, highway, or flelds,

Will serve my turn as well.

Shake. Just as you please.

Mos. Where may I find you, gentlemen?

B. Will. At Adam Fowl's, the Flower-de-luce.
Mos. I have confederates in this design;
When we've contriv'd the manner of his death,
I'll send you word.

B. Will. You'll find us always ready.
Mos. And determined?

B. Will. Ay, fear it not. Farewell.

This wretch, more fearful than the lonely mur derer,

Who with enquiring eyes some stranger views,
Would meet the king of terrors undismay'd,
For her he loves, and dare him to the combat.
And shall not I preserve my Mosby's life,
And shall not I a husband! What's a husband?
I have a soul above th' unnatural tie,
That tells me, I'm his right, and only his,
Who won my virgin heart. Ye tender parents,
Whose cruel kindness made your child thus
wretched,

Turn not your eyes towards earth to view this scene;

Twill make you sad in heav'n.

SCENE III.-Another Room.

[Exit.

ARDEN sleeping on a couch. Enter ALICIA with a dagger in her hand.

Ali. See! Jealousy o'erwatch'd is sunk to rest, While fearful guilt knows no security, But in repeated crimes. My weary eyes, Must seek for rest in vain till his are clos'd. Each moment apprehensive of his vengeance, Then for our mutual peace, and Mosby's love.

(Approaching to stab him, starts. He wakes! Defend me from his just revenge! And yet, he sees me not, nor moves a finger To save his threaten'd life. Then, whence that voice,

That pierc'd my ears, and cried, Alicia, hold!
Can mimic fancy cheat the outward sense,
And form such sounds? If these heart-racking

thoughts

Precede the horrid act, what must ensue?
Worse plague I cannot fear from Arden's death;

[Exeunt several ways. But from his life, the death of him I love.

Perish the hated husband! Wherefore hated?
Is he not all that my vain sex could wish?
My eyes, while they survey his graceful form,
Condemn my heart, and wonder how it stray'd.
He sighs-he starts-he groans. His body sleeps,
But restless grief denies his mind repose.
Perhaps he dreams of me; perhaps he sees me.
Thus, like a fury, broke from deepest hell,
Lust in my heart, and murder in my hand-

(Alicia drops the dagger. Arden starts up.) Ard. Her dagger, Michael! seize it, and I'm safe.

How strong she is! Oh! what a fearful dream!
Before me still! speak, vision, art thou Alicia,
Or but the coinage of my troubled brain?
Ali. Oh, Arden! husband-lord-
Ard. Art thou my wife?

Thou'rt

substance I'm wrapp'd in wonder!
Hence!

Hast lost all sense of fear as well as shame,
That thou durst haunt me thus, asleep and waking,
Thou idol and thou torment of my soul?

Ali. My bleeding heart

Ard. Away, begone and leave me :

Lest, in the transports of unbounded rage,

I rush upon thee, and deface those charms, That first enslay'd my soul! mangle that face

Ali. I pray thee, leave me, Michael. (Exit Mich.) Where, spite of falsehood, beauty triumphs still;

What is nature?

There is a pow'r in love, subdues to itself

All otherpassions in the human mind.

Mar that fair frame, and crush thee into atoms. Avoid me, and be safe. Nay, now you drive me (Alicia kneels, he turns away.)

hence

Enter BLACK WILL and SHAKEBAG. Shake. D-n! posted as you were, to let him 'scape!

B. Will. I pray thee, peace.

Shake. Green and I beheld him pass carelessly by within reach of your dagger. If you had held it but naked in your hand, he would have stabbed himself as he walked.

B. Will. I had not power to do it: a sudden damp came over me; I never felt so in my life. .kind of palsy seized me.

Shake. Palsy! when you're upon your duty! Go, go, and sleep, or drink away your fears. You tremble still.

B. Will. I tremble! my courage was never yet called in question, villain. When I fought at Boulogne under the late king, both armies knew and feared me.

Shake. That might be, because they did not know you. Dog, I'll shake you off to your old trade of filching in a throng. Murder's too genteel a business for your capacity. Sirrah, I have taken more gold at noon-day, than ever you filched copper by candle-light.

B. Will. Cowardly slave, you lie!

Shake. A coward! 'Sblood! that shall be proved. Come on.

B. Will. To thy heart's blood.

Shake. To thine.

Enter GREEN.

B. Will. Ay, we'll defer it till Arden's dead; I'm for doing business first, and then for play, Shake. Challenge me when thou darest. Green. The night draws on. Are you resolv'd? Shake. We are.

Green. Enough. See where he comes. I must withdraw;

But when you've done the deed, and sent his soul

No matter where I'll come to you again. [Exit. B. Will. Something rises in my throat; I can scarcely breath: Id rather poison half-a-dozen cardinals than kill this honest man; but I'll do't for my reputation.

Shake. He comes. Retire a little. Let him advance, then bury your dagger in his heart. If you fail, I'll second you.

B. Will. Stand further off, I shall not need your aid.

Shake. Now strike.

(They fight.)

Shake. Yes, safe to Feversham.

Green. Safe, say you? his good fortune mocks us all.

Green. What, are you mad? For shame, put up These strange escapes have almost stagger'd your swords.

Shake. Not till I've had his life.

B. Will. Fool, guard thy own.

Green. Pray hear me, gentlemen. B. Will. Stand farther off,

Shake. Away.

Green. This broil will ruin all.

Shake. He begun it.

B. Will. Ay, and will end it too.

me;

But, thinking of my wrongs, I'm more confirm'd. B. Will. Well said, my man of resolution. A gentleman commits a murder with double the satisfaction for such a heart. We must lay our snares

more cunning for the future. Green. We should consult with Michael, Arden's

man.

The pigmy-hearted wretch, though long ago

Green. Arden, you know, returns, and will you He swore his master dead, acts with reluctance.

let him

Escape a second time?

Shake. Who did the first?

Green. No matter, that may be repair'd.

B. Will. Brand me with cowardice!

Green. Come, come, you're both to blame.

Speak, will you lay aside this senseless broil?
B. Will. Nay, let him speak.

Shake. Why, rather than lose this opportunity(Puts up his sword.)

Shake. The coward must be spurred. He does it, or he dies.

Mich. What must I do?

(Frightened.) B. Will. Do! You must shew us the house, appoint the time and place, and lure your master thither. We'll take care of him without your trouble.

Green. So shall you purchase noble Mosby's
friendship!

And, by his friendship, gain his sister's love.
Mich. They'll murder me, too, should I not com-
_ply.
(Aside.)

Green. Think on your love, your interest.
B. Will. Or your death.

Mich. To-night, soon as the abbey-clock strikes
ten,
(Trembling.)
Come to his house, I'll leave the doors unbarr'd:
The left-hand stairs lead to my master's chamber:
There take him, and dispose him as you please.
Green. This cannot fail.

Shake. Unless this love-sick coward thinks to deceive us.

Mich. I will not, by heaven!

B. Will. I believe thee; for, by hell! thou dar'st

In me 'twas foolish guilt and disobedience;
In you, 'twas avarice, insolence and pride.

Mos. "Twas love in me, and gratitude in you.
Ali. 'Twas insolence in you, meanness in me
And madness in us both. My careful parents.
In scorn of your presumption and my weakness,
Gave me in marriage to a worthy gentleman,
Of birth and fortune equal to my own.
Three years I liv'd with him without reproach,
And made him in that time the happy father
Of two most lovely children. I, too, was happy;
At least, I liv'd in hopes I might be so:
For time, and gratitude, and Arden's love,
I hop'd might quench my guilty flame for you,
And make my heart a present worthy him.

Mos. And dost thou glory in thy, perjuries?
In love, inconstancy alone's a crime.
Think on the ardour of our youthful passion,
Think how we play'd with love; nor thought it
guilt,

Till thy first falsehood, (call it not obedience,)
Thy marriage with this Arden made me desperate;
Think on the transports of our love renew'd,
And-

Ali. Hide the rest, lest list'ning winds should
hear,

And publish to the world our shameful tale.
Here let remembrance of our follies die.

Mos. Shall our loves wither in their early
bloom?

Ali. Their harvest, else, will be to both our
shames.

Hast thou not made a monster of me, Mosby?
You should abhor me, I abhor myself.
When unperceiv'd I stole on Arden's sleep,
(Hell steel'd my heart, and death was in my hand,)
Pale anguish brooded on his ashy cheek,
And chilly sweats stood shivering on his brow.
Relentless murder, at a sigat so sad,
Gave place to pity; and, as he wak'd, I stood
Irresolute, and drown'd in tears.

Mos. She's lost;

And I in vain have stain'd my soul with blood.
(Aside.)
Ali. Give o'er in time: in vain are your at-
tempts

Upon my Arden's life; for heav'n that wrested

Ali. When vice has spread her poison thro' the The fatal weapon from my trembling hand,
soul,

How lifeless, slow, confus'd, and insincere,
Are our resolves in the pursuits of virtue!
What wonder, then, heav'n should refuse its aid
To thoughts, that only blossom for a time,
Look blooming to the eye, but yield no fruit.
Enter MOSBY.

Mos. I come, Alicia, to partake thy griefs;
For fire divided burns with lesser force.

Ali. I know thee: thou art come to fan the
flame

Thy breath hath kindled here, till it consume us
But tears and sighs shall stifle in my heart
The guilty passion.

Mos. Is heroic love,

That form'd the bright examples of thy sex,
Made their lives glorious, and their fame immortal,
A crime in thee? Art thou not mine by oaths,
By mutual sufferings, by contract mine?

Ali. Why do you urge a rash, a fatal promise,
I had no right to make, or you to ask?
Why did you practise on my easy heart?
Why did I ever listen to your vows?

Still has him in charge.

(Aside)

Mos. Little she thinks
That Arden's dead ere now. It must be so;
I've but that game to play, ere it be known.
Ali. I know our dang'rous state; I hesitate;
I tremble for your life; I dread reproach.
But we've offended, and must learn to suffer.
Mos. Then Arden live in his Alicia blest,
And Mosby wretched. Yet should chance or na-

ture

Lay Arden gently in a peaceful grave,
Might I presume to hope? Alicia, speak.
Ali. How shall I look into my secret thoughts,
And answer what I fear to ask myself?

(A long pause.)

Mos. Silence speaks best for me. His death once

As sure it was exalted and sincere,

I should have gloried in it, and been happy.
But I'll no longer live the abject slave

Of loose desire: I disclaim the thought.

Mos. I'll ask no more what honour should deny;

By heav'n, I never will!

Ali. Well, then, remember,

On that condition only, I renew

My vows. If time and the event of things

(Giving her hand.)

Should ever make it lawful, I'll be yours.

Mos. Oh! my full joys

Ali. Suppress thy frantic transports;

And time will end them.

Ard. True; for time brings death, The only certain end of human woes.

My heart recoils, I am betray'd; oh! give me back Sleep interrupts, but waking we're restor'd

My promis'd faith.

Mos. First, let the world dissolve.

Ali. There is no joy nor peace for you or re: All our engagements cannot but be fatal.

Mos. The time may come when you'll have other thoughts;

Till then, farewell. (Aside.) Now, Fortune, do thy

worst.

[Exit.

To all our griefs again. Watching and rest,
Alternately succeeding one another,

Are all the idle business of dull life.

What shall we call this undetermin'd state;
This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless

oceans;

tend?

That whence we came, and that to which we
Is it life chequer'd with the sleep of death?
Or death enliven'd by our waking dreams?
But we'll to bed. Here, Michael, bring the

lights.

Enter MICHAEL, with lights.

Heav'n send you good repose.

(Gives Franklin a light.)

Thus strangely met to prove the lady false, And justify the husband's horrid vengeance, Yet it appears to ev'ry honest eye,

(Too late for the poor lady,) she was wrong'd. Ard. Is't possible?

Frank. Ay, very possible: He lives that proves it so.

tice,

Frank. The like to you.
Mich. Shall I attend to you, sir?

Frank. No, no; I choose to be alone. Good night,

[Exit Franklin. Michael attends his master, and returns.

Mich. I, who should take my weapon in my hand

And guard his life with hazard of my own,
With fraudful smiles have led him, unsuspecting,
Quite to the jaws of death: but I've an oath;
Mosby has bound me with a horrid vow,

Which, if I break, these dogs have sworn my

Conceal'd from jus- They come-I hear their oaths, and see their

He pines with ceaseless sorrow for his guilt,
And each hour bends him lower towards his

grave.

Ard. I know thy friendship and perceive its drift.

I'll bear my wrongs-for, sure, I have been wrong'd.

Do I but think so, then? What fools are men
Whom love and hatred, anger, hope, and fear,
And all the various passions, rule by turns,
And in their several turns alike deceive!
Frank. To cast away, and on suspicion only,
A jewel, like Alicia, were to her
Unjust, and cruel to yourself.

(Clock strikes len.)

Mich. My master, Franklin!

Ard. Why dost tremble so?

Our happy hours are few, and fly so swift,

Mich. I dream'd the house was full of thieves and

murderers.

(Trembling.)

Ard. Dream'd! what, awake? Are all the doors

made fast?

Mich. I think they are.

Ard. I'll go and see myself.

Frank. You made a fearful noise.
Mich. Did I?

Arden. (Within.) Why, Michael!

[Exit. That I may have him murder'd in her sight.
Enter GREEN.

Frank. You tremble stiH. Has any one been here?

Mich. No, I hope not. My master will be angry.

Re-enter ARDEN.

Green. How strange a Providence attends this man!

'Tis vain to strive with heav'n; let's give it o'er..
Mos. No; when I do, may I be curst for
ever,

Hopeless to love, and hate without revenge:
May I ne'er know an end of disappointment,

Ard. This negilence not half contents me, But press'd with hard necessity, like thee,

sir:

Mich. The morning fair, all chang'd,

Live the contempt of my insulting foe.
Green. I scorn the abject thought; had
life

Hung on each hair, he dies. If we succeed,

This very night Maria shall be thine.
Mich. I am a man again.
Mos. I've thought a way

(To Michael.)

That may be easy under friendship's mask,
Which, to a foe suspected, may be hard.
Green. Friendship! impossible—

Mos. You know him not.

You, with your ruffians, in the street shall seck
him.

I follow at some distance. They begin
(No matter how) a quarrel, and at once

Assault him with their swords. Straight I ap

SCENE II.-A Room in Arden's house.

Enter FRANKLIN and MARIA.

Frank. Well, in what temper did you find
Alicia?

Mar. Never was anguish, never grief like
hers:

By me conjures you, (and with tears she spoke She eats nor sleeps. Her lovely, downcast eyes,

it,)

Not to involve yourself and her in ruin,

By seeking to renew a correspondence

She has renounc'd for ever.

Mos. How! confusion!

That us'd to gladden each beholder's heart,
Now wash the flinty bosom of the earth.
Her troubled breast heaves with incessant sighs,
Which drink the purple streams of life, and
blast

Mich. And hopes, as heav'n, in answer to her Her bloem, as storms the blossoms of the

So, rather than not change, she'll love her hus- Asham'd to view the face of man or day,

band!

But she will not persevere.

Mich. Yes, sure, she will.

As Mosby's name was written on his brow,
He cheerless wanders; seeks the darkest gloom
To hide his drooping head, and grieve alone.

Mos. Have I then slighted her whole sighing With a full heart, swoln eyes, and falt'ring

sex,

Bid opportunity and fortune wait;

And all to be forsaken for a husband!

By heav'n, I am glad he has so oft escap'd,

tongue,

He sometimes, seeking to beguile his grief.
Begins a mournful tale: but straight a thought
Of his imagin'd wrongs crossing his memory,

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The British Drama: Illustrated, Volume 2