University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

A parlour in Arden's house.
Enter Alicia meeting Mosby.
Alic.
Mosby, that brow befits our wayward fate.
The evil hour, long fear'd, is fallen upon us,
And we shall sink beneath it. Do not frown—
If you're unkind, to whom shall I complain!

Mosby.
Madam, it was my sister I expected—

Alic.
Am I forgotten then! Ungrateful man!
This only cou'd have added to my woes.
Did you but know what I have borne for you,
You wou'd not thus, unmov'd, behold my tears.

Mosby.
Madam, you make me vain.

Alic.
Insult not, Mosby.
You were the first dear object of my love,
And cou'd my heart have made a second choice,
I had not been the object of your scorn:
But duty, gratitude, the love of fame,
And pride of virtue, were too weak t'erase
The deep impression of your early vows.

Mos.
Therefore you kindly chose to wed another.

Alic.
Reproach me not with what I deem'd my duty.
Oh! had I thought I cou'd assume the name,
And never know the affection of a wife,
I wou'd have died ere giv'n my hand to Arden.

Mos.
You gave him all.—

Alic.
No, no, I gave him nothing:
Words without truth—an hand without an heart.
But he has found the fraud—the slumb'ring lion
At length hath rous'd himself—

Mos.
And I must fall
The victim—

Alic.
No, he knows not yet his wrongs.

Mos.
But quickly will.

Alic.
That, that's my greatest fear.

Mos.
Then, branded with a strumpet's hated name,
The cause abhorr'd of shame, of blood, and ruin,
Thou'lt be expos'd and hooted thro' the world.

Alic.
O 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.—

Alic.
Labour not
To drive me to despair. Fain wou'd I hope—

Mos.
You may—and be deceiv'd. For me I know
My fate resolv'd—and thee the instrument;
The willing instrument of Mosby's ruin.
Inconstant, false Alicia!

Alic.
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?

Alic.
Ha!—say on.

Mos.
And not preventing, art not thou the cause?

Alic.
Ah! whither, Mosby—whither wou'dst thou drive me?

Mos.
Nay, didst thou love, or wou'dst secure thy fame,
Preserve my life, and bind me yours for ever;
'Tis yet within your power.—

Alic.
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 wou'd please you better, Madam.

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.

Alic.
I will, for that will make me mad: And madness
Were some excuse. Come, kind distraction! come,
And Arden dies—my husband dies for Mosby.
[Shrieks, and runs to Mosby.
Enter Arden and Franklin.
He's here! O save me! tell me, did he hear?

Ard.
[Starting.]
Franklin, support your friend.
I shake with horror.

Frank.
What moves you thus?

Ard.
See—Mosby—with my wife!

Mos.
But, Madam, I shall spare your farther trouble;
In happy time behold my neighbour here.

[As taking leave of Alicia.
Alic.
Mischief and wild confusion have begun,
And desolation waits to close the scene.
[Exit Alicia.

Mos.
Sir, I wou'd gladly know, whether your grant
Of the rich abbey-lands of Feversham
Be yet confirm'd or not?

Ard.
What if I tear
Her faithless heart, ev'n in the traitor's sight,
Who taught it falshood.

[Aside.
Frank.
He is lost in thought.
But I can answer that: It is confirm'd—
I brought the deed, with the great seal annex'd,
Sign'd by our pious Edward, and his council.

Mos.
I'm satisfied.—

Ard.
So am not I—By hell,
There's justice in the thought.—I'm strangely tempted.

[Aside.
Mos.
My friend seems wrapt 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.

[Draws.
Mos.
Her known virtue
Renders the injury your fancy forms,
A thing of air.

Frank.
Impossible to thought.
Whence, Arden, comes this sudden madness on thee,
That your Alicia, ever dear esteem'd,
And deeply lov'd—

Ard.
Out on the vile adult'ress!
But thou demure, insinuating slave,
Shalt taste my vengeance first. Defend thyself.

Mos.
I scorn to take advantage of your rage.

Ard.
A coward too! O my consummate shame!

Mos.
This I can bear from you.

Ard.
Or any man.
Why hangs that useless weapon by thy side,
Thou shame to manhood?—Draw.—Will nothing move thee?

[Strikes him.
Frank.
Hold. Whither wou'd your mad revenge transport you?

Ard.
Shall shameful cowardise protect a villain?

Mos.
You chuse 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.

Mos.
What I endure to save a lady's honour!

[To Franklin.
Frank.
Your longer stay will but incense him more;
Pray quit the house.

Mos.
Sir, I shall take your counsel.
[Exit Mosby.

Ard.
He hath escap'd me then—But for my wife—

Frank.
What has she done?

Ard.
Done! must I tell my shame?
Away, begone—lest from my prey withheld
I turn, and tear th'officious hand that lets me.
Soft! art thou Franklin? Pardon me, sweet friend;—
My spirits sail—I shake—I must retire.

Frank.
To your Alicia.

Ard.
To my lonely couch;
For I must learn to live without her, Franklin.

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 an 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 reigns.