The vile dependent of my foe professed, And let me pour my griefs into thy bosom, Alic. 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 called him from me. Ard. This deep dissembling, this hypocrisy, (The last worst state of a degenerate mind) Speaks her in vice determined and mature. [Aside. Alic. What maid, that knows man's variable Would sell her free estate for marriage bonds? Ard. To stop my just reproach, Art thou the first to tax the marriage state? Alic. Are you not jealous? do you not give ear To vain surmises and malicious tongues, That hourly wound my yet untainted fame? Ard. And wouldst thou make me author of the shame, Thy guilt has brought on us!-I'll bear no longer. The traitor Mosby, cursed, detested Mosby, Shall render an account for both your crimes. Alic. What do I hear! Ard. The base mechanic slave Shall answer with his blood. Alic. O hear me speak! [Aside. Ard. No, I am deaf: As thou hast ever been To fame, to virtue, and my just complaints. Alic. Thus on my knees Ard. Adultress! 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 hast kindled in this bosom, Shall make me shed thy blood. Alic. I do not hope it. Ard. For me, be as immortal as thy shame. O Arden, blend compassion with your rage, Ard. Not for my sake Are all thy tears; then had you felt them sooner; Plead not the ruin you have made; but say, VOL. I. Why have you driven me to these extremes? Why sacrificed my peace, and your own fame, By corresponding with a menial slave? Alic. Thou canst not think, that I have wronged thy bed? Ard. Would I could not! But now, as you lay slumbering by my side, ears, And question, if the dark and silent night Which glowed, adultress! with infernal heat; Alic. A dream indeed, if I e'er called on him. Ard. Thy guilty dreams betray thy waking thoughts. Alic. I know I'm simple, thoughtless, and unguarded; And what is carelessness you construe guilt. Ard. But such a dream!— Alic. Yet was it but a dream, Which, though I not remember, I abhor, 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 ma riners, When struggling with the raging seas for life, Wish the assistance of some friendly plank? | 'Tis that, and that alone, can bring me comfort. Alic. O jealousy! thou fierce remorseless fiend, Degenerate, most unnatural child of love! How shall I chase thee from my Arden's bosom? Ard. There is a way, an easy way, Alicia. Alic. O name it-speak. Ard. What's past may be forgotten. Your future conduct- Alic. You distract me, Arden. Say, how shall I convince you of my truth? Ard. I ask but this: never see Mosby more! [He starts. By Heaven, she's dumb! Alic. O how shall I conceal My own confusion, and elude his rage? [Aside. Ard. Thou'rt lost, Alicia!-lost to me-and Heaven. Alic. Indeed I'm lost, if you unkindly doubt me. 30 Alic. That always was your own. Alic. Thou canst say nothing.-Get thee from Yet stay-no matter. I'll myself go seek him. SCENE III-A parlour in ARDEN's house. Alic. Mosby, that brow befits our wayward The evil hour, long feared, is fallen upon us, Ard. Thou flatterer-then whence this cruel And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frownstrife? Still art thou cold: nor warm are thy embraces, Nor sparkle in thine eyes the fires of love: Alic. Indeed you fright me. Ard. 'Tis possible Alic. What? Ard. That thou may'st yet deceive me. Ard. Both perhaps are so. But, if thou ever lov'dst, thou'lt not despise me, All, all shall pity thee, and curse Alicia. Mar. An happy day, Alicia; and may each Serv. Madam, your brother Mosby- Serv. He waits below. Alic. O haste, and lead me to him! Serv. Madam, he but desires to see his sister. If you're unkind, to whom shall I complain? You were the first dear object of my love; Mos. Therefore you kindly chose to wed ano- Alic. Reproach me not with what I deemed Oh! had I thought I could assume the name, I would have died ere given my hand to Arden. Alic. No, no, I gave him nothing: Words without truth-an hand without a heart! The cause abhorred of shame, of blood, and ruin, Alic. O hide the dreadful image from my view! Chaste matrons, modest maids, and virtuous wives, Scorning a weakness which they never knew, Alic. Pray, give me leave-looks he in health? To drive me to despair. Fain would I hope Serv. He seems in health. Alic. Here, and not ask for me! Seems he or angry then, or melancholy? Answer me, stock, stone. Serv. Truly I can't say. Mos. You may, and be deceived. For me, I know My fate resolved-and thee the instrument, The willing instrument, of Mosby's ruin! Mos. And, not preventing, art not thou the cause? Alic. Ah! whither, Mosby, whither wouldst thou drive me? Mos. Nay, didst thou love, or wouldst secure thy fame, Preserve my life, and bind me yours for ever'Tis yet within your power. Alic. By Arden's death! Meanest thou not so? Speak out, and be a devil. But thou, demure, insinuating slave, Declare, my death would please you better, ma- Alic. Exaggerating fiend! be dumb for ever! His death! I must not cast a glance that way. Mos. Is there another way? O think, Alicia! Were some excuse. Come, kind distraction! come, Enter ARDEN and FRANKLIN, He's here! O save me! tell me, did he hear? Frank. What moves you thus? Mos. But, madam, I shall spare your farther In happy time behold my neighbour here! Shalt taste my vengeance first. Defend thyself! Ard. Or any man! Why hangs that useless weapon by thy side, Frank. Hold! Whither would your mad re venge transport you? Ard. Shall shameful cowardice protect a villain? Mos. You chuse a proper place to shew your Ard. Go on. I'll follow to the ocean's brink, more; Pray quit the house. Mos. Sir, I shall take your counsel. [Exit Mosby. Ard. He hath escaped me then. But for my wife Frank. What has she done? Ard. Done! must I tell my shame? -I shake-I must retire. Frank. To your Alicia. Ard, To my lonely couch; For I must learn to live without her, Franklin. Ard. To hate her, to forget her, if I can : Of all its horrors robbed the blackest night, SCENE I.-The Street. Enter GREEN and MOSBY. ACT. II. Green. You pity me, and know not my estate. I'm ruined, Mosby; thoughtless, and ill-advised, 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 ungenerous Arden, To force a man, born equal to himself, 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 Green. Robbed of the means of life, Green, I do, by Heaven! Mos. Suppose you fail. Green. I can but lose my life. To wait on good lord Cheyney. As he holds 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 served myself. He was a corporal then; but such a villainBeneath a soldier's name; a common cut-throat, That preys on all mankind, and knows no party. Mos. An horrid character you give him, Bradshaw. Brad. No worse than he deserves. Mos. [Aside.] An useful hint: He shall not want employment: What's his name? Brad. Black Will. His family-name I never heard. Mos. [To Green.] ter to Alicia: Mos. Then where is your revenge, when he, Disguise your hand. secure, Riots, unbounded, in his ill-got wealth? Green. What can I do? Mos. 'Tis plain you wish him dead. Green. Each moment of his life is to my soul Your land restored, and fortune in your power; Mos. The world will talk; but be that as it I want not cause nor will, not means nor friends Green. Nor opportunity shall long be wanting. Mos. Enough: his fate is fixed, See! Bradshaw's here! Enter BRADSHAW. Brad. Save, save you, gentlemen! Mos. We thank you, neighbour. But whither in such haste? Brad. To the isle of Shippey, " it. A word-write you a let This honest fool may bear Hint at these men. In case her courage fail, She will be glad to shift the deed on them. Green. I am instructed. Enter BLACK WILL and SHAKEBAG. B. Will. What! comrade Bradshaw! How fare you, man? S'blood! dost not remember honest Black Will? Why, thou art grown purseproud sure. Brad. Why, you're not easily forgotten, Will, But, prithee, what brings thee to Feversham? B. Will. A soldier, you know, is at home, wherever he comes. Omne solum forti patria! 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 counter. Brad. Insolent slave! B. Will. You cent. per cent. rascal! I may find a time to teach you better manners. Brad. Go, mend thy own. B. Will. Thou wert always a sneaking fellow, Bradshaw, and couldst never swear, nor get drunk. Come, shall I and my comrade Shakebag taste your ale? Brad. My house entertains no such guests— Farewell, gentlemen. Mos. Along with Bradshaw, And leave the management of these to me. [Aside to Green. Green. It shall be done. Bradshaw, a word with thee. Brad. Your pardon, gentlemen. [Exeunt Green and Bradshaw. B. Will. He was a cadet in the last French war, like other soldiers, then; but now he has got a nest, and feathered it a little, he pretends to reputation. S'blood! had this been a fit place, he had not escaped me so. You have surveyed us well. [To Mosby.] How do you like us? Mos. Methinks I read truth, prudence, secrecy, And courage, writ upon your manly brows. B. Will. What hellish villainy has this fellow in hand, that makes him fawn upon us? [Aside. Mos. I fear the world's a stranger to your merit. If this may recommend me to your friendship[Gives a purse. B. Will. Of what damned deed is this to be the wages? Shake. Hast ever an elder brother's throat to B. Will. Or an old peevish father to be buried? Shake. A rival then mayhap Mos. There you come nearer to me. Shake. Then speak out. We're honest, sir. B. Will. Trusty, and very poor. Mos. Metal too fit for me. [Aside.] Then hear me, sirs. But you must both, ere I disclose my purpose, sum, And a good horse to further his escape. B. Will. Sir, will you have him murdered in a church? Shake. Or on the altar; say the word, and it shall be done. Mos. Some safer place, the street, highway, or fields, 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. Promise, and bind that promise by your oaths-When we have contrived the manner of his death, Never-They both laugh.] Why this unseasona ble mirth? B. Will. You'd have us swear?- 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. Mos. Horrid! they shake even me, who would I apprehend-The business then is this: tunes. He's jealous too of late, and threatens me. Love, interest, self-defence, all ask his death. I'll send you word. B. Will. You'll find us always ready. Farewell. |