Which his great soul and vertue must disdain.
Too much of love thy hapless friend has prov'd,
Too many giddy, foolish hours are gone,
And in fantastick measures danc'd away:
May the remaining few know only friendship.
So thou, my dearest, truest, best Alicia,
Vouchsafe to lodge me in thy gentle heart,
A partner there; I will give up mankind,
Forget the transports of encreasing passion,
And all the pangs we feel for its decay.
Alic. (embracing). Live! live and reign for ever
in my bosom,
Safe and unrivall'd there possess thy own;
And you, ye brightest of the stars above,
Ye saints that once were women here below,
Be witness of the truth, the holy friendship,
Which here to this my other self I vow.
If I not hold her nearer to my soul,
Then ev'ry other joy the world can give,
Let poverty, deformity and shame,
Distraction and despair seize 'me on earth,
Let not my faithless ghost have peace hereafter,
Nor tast the bliss of your cœlestial fellowship.
J. Sh. Yes, thou art true, and only thou art
Therefore these jewels, once the lavish bounty
Of royal Edward's love, I trust to thee;
(Giving a casket.) Receive this all that I can call
And let it rest unknown and safe with thee:
That if the state's injustice should oppress me, 160
Strip me of all, and turn me out a wanderer,
My wretchedness may find relief from thee,
And shelter from the storm.
Alic.
My all is thine ;
One common hazard shall attend us both,
And both be fortunate, or both be wretched:
But let thy fearful, doubting heart be still;
The saints and angels have thee in their charge,
And all things shall be well. Think not, the
good,
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done
Shall dye forgotten all; the poor, the pris'ner, 170
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,
Who daily own the bounty of thy hand,
Shall cry to heav'n, and pull a blessing on thee;
Ev'n man, the merciless insulter man,
Man, who rejoices in our sex's weakness,
Shall pity thee, and with unwonted goodness,
Forget thy failings, and record thy praise.
7. Sh. Why should I think that man will do
What yet he never did for wretches like me
Mark by what partial justice we are judg'd;
Such is the fate unhappy women find,
And such the curse intail'd upon our kind,
178 me. 1714 B follows with interrogation point.
That man, the lawless libertine may rove
Free and unquestion'd through the wilds of love,
While woman, sense and nature's easy fool, 185
If poor, weak woman swerve from virtue's rule,
If strongly charm'd, she leave the thorny way,
And in the softer paths of pleasure stray;
Ruin ensues, reproach and endless shame,
And one false step entirely damns her fame.
In vain with tears the loss she may deplore,
In vain look back to what she was before,
She sets, like stars that fall, to rise no more.
Enter Alicia, speaking to Jane Shore as entering.
Alicia. No farther, gentle friend; good angels
And spread their gracious wings about your
slumbers.
The drowzy night grows on the world, and now
The busie craftsman and the o'er-labour'd hind
Forget the travail of the day in sleep:
Care only wakes, and moping pensiveness;
With meagre discontented looks they sit,
And watch the wasting of the midnight taper.
Such vigils must I keep, so wakes my soul,
Restless and self-tormented! O false Hastings!
Thou hast destroy'd my peace.
What visitor is this who with bold freedom
Breaks in upon the peaceful night and rest
With such a rude approach?
Lord Hastings, (as I think) demands my lady. 15
Scene continues. F, an apartment in Jane Shore's house.
1-2 No farther. slumbers. F omits.
Alic. Hastings! Be still my heart, and try to
Enter Lord Hastings. Speaks to a servant at entering. Lord Hastings. Dismiss my train, and wait alone without.
Alicia here! Unfortunate encounter!
But, be it as it may.
Alic.
When humbly, thus,
The great descend to visit the afflicted,
When thus unmindful of their rest, they come
To sooth the sorrows of the midnight mourner;
Comfort comes with them, like the golden sun,
Dispels the sullen shades with her sweet influence, 25
And chears the melancholy house of care.
Has. 'Tis true, I wou'd not over-rate a cur-
tesie,
Nor let the coldness of delay hang on it
To nip and blast its favour like a frost;
But rather chose, at this late hour, to come,
That your fair friend may know I have prevail'd:
The lord protector has receiv'd her suit,
And means to shew her grace.
Has. Yes, lady, yours: none has a right more
To task my power than you.
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