University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Enter Biron, Nurse following him.
Bir.
I know enough: Th'important Question
Of Life or Death, fearful to be resolv'd,
Is clear'd to me: I see where it must end;
And need enquire no more—Pray let me have
Pen, Ink, and Paper, I must write a While,
And then I'll try to rest—to rest! for ever.
[Exit Nurse.
Poor Isabella! Now I know the Cause,
The Cause of thy Distress, and cannot wonder
That it has turn'd thy Brain. If I look back
Upon thy Loss, it will distract me too.
O, any Curse but this might be remov'd!
But 'twas the rancorous Malignity
Of all ill Stars combin'd, of Heav'n and Fate—
Hold, hold my impious Tongue—Alas! I rave:
Why do I tax the Stars, or Heav'n, or Fate?
They are all innocent of driving us
Into Despair; they have not urg'd my Doom
My Father, and my Brother are my Fates,
That drive me to my Ruin. They knew well
I was alive: Too well they knew how dear
My Isabella—O my Wife no more!
How dear her Love was to me—Yet they stood,
With a malicious silent Joy, stood by,
And saw her give up all my Happiness,
The Treasure of her Beauty, to another;
Stood by, and saw her marry'd to another:
O cruel Father! and unnatural Brother!
Shall I not tell you that you have undone me?
I have but to accuse you of my Wrongs,
And then to fall forgotten—Sleep or Death
Sits heavy on me, and benumbs my Pains:
Either is welcome; but the Hand of Death
Works always sure, and best can close my Eyes.
[Exit Biron.

Enter Nurse and Sampson.
Nurse.

Here's strange Things towards, Sampson:
What will be the End of 'em, do you think?

Samp.

Nay, marry Nurse, I can't see so far; but the
Law, I believe, is on Biron, the first Husband's Side.

Nurse.

Yes; no Question, he has the Law on his Side.

Samp.

For I have heard, the Law says, a Woman must
be a Widow, all out seven Years, before she can marry
again, according to Law.

Nurse.

Ay, so it does; and our Lady has not been a
Widow altogether seven Years.

Samp.

Why then, Nurse, mark my Words, and say
I told you so: The Man must have his Mare again, and
all will do well.

Nurse.

But if our Master Villeroy comes back again—

Samp.

Why, if he does, he is not the first Man that
has had his Wife taken from him.

Nurse.

For Fear of the Worst, will you go to the old
Count, desire him to come as soon as he can; there may
be Mischief, and he is able to prevent it.

Samp.

Now you say something, now I take you, Nurse;
that will do well indeed: Mischief should be prevented;
a little Thing will make a Quarrel, when there's a Woman
in the Way. I'll about it instantly—

[Exeunt.
SCENE drawn, shews Biron asleep on a Couch.
Isabella comes in to him.
Isa.
Asleep so soon! Oh happy! happy thou!
Who thus canst sleep—I never shall sleep more.
If then to sleep be to be happy, he
Who sleeps the longest, is the happiest;
Death is the longest Sleep? Oh! have a Care,
Mischief will thrive apace. Never wake more.
[To Biron.
If thou didst ever love thy Isabella,
To-morrow must be Dooms-day to thy Peace.
—The Sight of him disarms ev'n Death itself.
—The starting Transport of new quick'ning Life
Gives just such Hopes; and Pleasure grows again
With looking on him—Let me look my last—
But is a Look enough for parting Love!
Sure I may take a Kiss—where am I going!
Help, help me, Villeroy!—Mountains, and Seas
Divide your Love, never to meet my Shame.
[Throws herself upon the Floor; after a short Pause, she raises herself upon her Elbow.
What will this Battle of the Brain do with me!
This little Ball, this ravag'd Province, long
Cannot maintain—The Globe of Earth wants Room
And Food for such a War—I find I'm going—
Famine, Plagues, and Flames,
Wide Waste and Desolation, do your Work
Upon the World, and then devour yourselves,
—The Scene shifts fast— [She rises.]
and now 'tis better with me;
Conflicting Passions have at last unhing'd
The great Machine; the Soul itself seem's chang'd;
Oh, 'tis a happy Revolution here!
The reas'ning Faculties are all depos'd;
Judgment, and Understanding, Common Sense,
Driv'n out, as Traitors to the public Peace.
Now I'm reveng'd upon my Memory,
Her Seat dug up, where all the Images
Of a long mis-spent Life, were rising still,
To glare a sad Reflection of my Crimes,
And stab a Conscience thro' 'em: You are safe,
You Monitors of Mischief! What a Change!
Better and better still! This is the Infant State
Of Innocence, before the Birth of Care.
My Thoughts are smooth as the Elysian Plains,
Without a Rub: The drowsy falling Streams
Invite me to their Slumbers.
Wou'd I were landed there—
[Sinks into a Chair.
What Noise was that! A knocking at the Gate!
It may be Villeroy—No matter who.

Bir.
Come, Isabella, come—

[Biron in a Dream.
Isa.
Hark, I am call'd.

Bir.
You stay too long from me.

Isa.
A Man's Voice! in my Bed! how came he there?
[Rises.
Nothing but Villany in this bad World;
Coveting Neighbours Goods, or Neighbours Wives;
Here's Physick for your Fever.
[Draws a Dagger, and goes backward to the Couch.
Breathing a Vein is the old Remedy.
If Husbands go to Heav'n,
Where do they go that send 'em?—This to try.
[Just going to stab him, he rises, she knows him, and Shrieks.
What do I see!

Bir.
Isabella! arm'd!

Isa.
Against my Husband's Life!
Who, but the Wretch, most reprobate to Grace,
Despair e'er hardned for Damnation,
Could think of such a Deed! Murder my Husband!

Bir.
Thou didst not think it.

Isa.
Madness has brought me to the Gates of Hell,
And there has left me. O, the frightful Change
Of my Distractions! Or, is this Interval
Of Reason, but to aggravate my Woes;
To drive the Horror back with greater Force
Upon my Soul, and fix me mad for ever?

Bir.
Why dost thou fly me so?

Isa.
I cannot bear his Sight; Distraction, come,
Possess me all, and take me to thyself;
Shake off thy Chains, and hasten to my Aid;—
Thou art my only Cure—like other Friends,
He will not come to my Necessities;
Then I must go to find the Tyrant out;
Which is the nearest Way?

[Running out.
Bir.
Poor Isabella, she's not in a Condition
To give me any Comfort, if she could:
Lost to herself—as quickly I shall be
To all the World—Horrors come fast around me;
My Mind is overcast—the gath'ring Clouds
Darken the Prospect—I approach the Brink,
And soon must leap the Precipice! O, Heav'n!
While yet my Senses are my own, thus kneeling
Let me implore thy Mercies on my Wife,
Release her from her Pangs; and if my Reason,
O'erwhelm'd with Miseries, sink before the Tempest,
Pardon those Crimes Despair may bring upon me.

[Rises.
Enter Nurse.
Nurse.

Sir, there's Somebody at the Door must needs
speak with you; he won't tell his Name.

Bir.
I come to him—
[Exit Nurse.
'Tis Bellford, I suppose; he little knows
Of what has happen'd here; I wanted him,
Must employ his Friendship, and then—

Exit.
SCENE changes to the Street.
Carlos enters with three Russians.
Car.
A younger Brother! I was one too long,
Not to prevent my being so again—
We must be sudden—Younger Brothers are
But lawful Bastards of another Name;
Thrust out of their Nobility of Birth
And Family, and tainted into Trades:
Shall I be one of them? Bow, and retire,
To make more Room for the unwieldy Heir
To play the Fool in! No—
But how shall I prevent it? Biron comes
To take Possession of my Father's Love;
Would that were all; there is a Birth-right too
That he will seize—Besides, if Biron lives,
He will unfold some Practices, which I
Cannot well answer—therefore he shall die;
This Night must be dispos'd of: I have Means
That will not fail my Purpose—Here he comes.

[Enter Biron.
Bir.
Ha! Am I beset? I live but to revenge me.

[They surround him fighting; Villeroy enters with two Servants, they rescue him; Carlos and his Party fly.
Vil.
How are you, Sir? mortally hurt, I fear,
Take Care and lead him in.

Bir.
I thank you for the Goodness, Sir, tho' 'tis
Bestow'd upon a very Wretch; and Death,
Tho' from a Villain's Hand, had been to me
An Act of Kindness, and the Height of Mercy,—
But I thank you Sir.

[He is led in.
SCENE changes to the Inside of the House.
Enter Isabella.
Isa.
Murder my Husband! O! I must not dare
To think of living on; my desperate Hand,
In a mad Rage, may offer it again;
Stab any where but there. Here's Room enough
In my own Breast, to act the Fury in,
The proper Scene of Mischief. Villeroy comes;
Villeroy and Biron come: O! hide me from 'em—
They rack, they tear; let 'em carve out my Limbs,
Divide my Body to their equal Claims:
My Soul is only Biron's; that is free,
And thus I strike for him, and Liberty.

[Going to stab herself, Villeroy runs in and prevents her, by taking the Dagger from her.
Vil.
Angels defend and save thee!
Attempt thy precious Life! the Treasury
Of Nature's Sweets! Life of my little World!
Lay violent Hands upon thy innocent Self!

Isa.
Swear I am innocent, and I'll believe you:
What would you have with me? Pray let me go.
—Are you there, Sir? You are the very Man
Have done all this—You would have made
Me believe you married me; but the Fool
Was wiser, I thank you: 'Tis not all Gospel
You Men preach upon that Subject.

Vil.
Dost thou not know me?

Isa.
O, yes, very well.
[Staring on him.
You are the Widow's Comforter, that marries
Any Woman, when her Husband's out of the Way:
But I'll never, never take your Word again.

Vil.
I am thy loving Husband.

Isa.
I have none; no Husband—
[Weeping.
Never had but one, and he dy'd at Candy,
Did he not? I'm sure you told me so; you,
Or somebody, with just such a lying Look
As you have now: Speak, did he not die there?

Vil.
He did, my Life!

Isa.
But swear it, quickly swear,
Biron enters bloody, and leaning upon his Sword.
Before that screaming Evidence appears,
In bloody Proof against me—

[She seeing Biron, swoons into a Chair; Vil. helps her.
Vil.
Help there; Nurse, where are you?
Ha! I am distracted too!
[Going to call for Help, sees Biron.
Biron alive!

Bir.
The only Wretch on Earth that must not live.

Vil.
Biron, or Villeroy must not, that's decreed.

Bir.
You've sav'd me from the Hands of Murderers:
Would you had not, for Life's my greatest Plague;
And then, of all the World, you are the Man
I would not be oblig'd to—Isabella!
I came to fall before thee: I had dy'd
Happy, not to have found your Villeroy here:
A long Farewel, and a last Parting Kiss.

[Kisses her.
Vil.
A Kiss, Confusion! it must be your last.

[Draws.
Bir.
I know it must—here I give up that Death
You but delay'd: Since what is past has been
The Works of Fate, thus we must finish it:
Thrust home, be sure—

[Faints.
Vil.
Alas! he faints! Some Help there.

Bir.
'Tis all in vain, my Sorrows soon will end,
O Villeroy! let a dying Wretch intreat you,
To take this Letter to my Father—my Isabella!
Cou'dst thou but hear me, my last Words should bless thee.
I cannot, tho' in Death, bequeath her to thee;
[To Villeroy.
But cou'd I hope my Boy, my little One,
Might find a Father in thee—O, I faint!
I can no more—Hear me Heav'n! O! support
My Wife, my Isabella—Bless my Child!
And take a poor unhappy—

[Dies.
Vil.
He's gone:—Let what will be the Consequence,
I'll give it him. I have involv'd myself,
And would be clear'd; that must be thought on now.
My Care of her is lost in wild Amaze.
[Going to Isabella.
Are you all dead within there? Where, where are you?

[Exit.
Isabella comes to herself.
Isa.
Where have I been?—Methinks I stand upon
The Brink of Life, ready to shoot the Gulph
That lies between me and the Realms of Rest:
But, still detain'd, I cannot pass the Strait;
Deny'd to live, and yet I must not die:
Doom'd to come back, like a complaining Ghost,
To my unbury'd Body—Here it lies—
[Throws herself by Byron's Body.
My Body, Soul, and Life. A little Dust,
To cover our cold Limbs in the dark Grave—
There, there we shall sleep safe and sound together.

Enter Villeroy with Servants.
Vil.
Poor Wretch! upon the Ground! She's not herself:
Remove her from the Body.

[Servants going to raise her.
Isa.
Never, never:
You have divorc'd us once, but shall no more.
Help, help me, Biron: Ha!—bloody and dead!
O, Murder, Murder! You have done this Deed!
Vengeance! and Murder! Bury us together;
Do any Thing but part us.

Vil.
Gently, gently raise her—
She must be forc'd away.

[She drags the Body after her. They get her into their Arms, and carry her off.
Isa.
O, they tear me! Cut off my Hands—
Let me leave something with him,
They'll clasp him fast—
O cruel, cruel Men!
This you must answer one Day.

Vil.
Good Nurse, take Care of her:
[Nurse follows her.
Send for all Helps: All, all that I am worth,
Shall cheaply buy her Peace of Mind again.
Be sure you do
[To a Servant.
Just as I order'd you. The Storm grows loud—
[Knocking at the Door.
I am prepar'd for it; now let them in.

Enter Count Baldwin, Carlos, Bellford, Friends, with Servants.
C. Bald.
O, do I live to this unhappy Day!
Where is my wretched Son?

Car.
Where is my Brother?

[They see him, and gather about the Body.
Vil.
I hope in Heav'n.

Car.
Canst thou pity him?
Wish him in Heav'n! When thou hast done a Deed,
That must for ever cut thee from the Hopes
Of ever coming there.

Vil.
I do not blame you—
You have a Brother's Right to be concern'd
For his untimely Death—

Car.
Untimely Death, indeed!

Vil.
But yet you must not say, I was the Cause.

Car.
Not you the Cause! Why, who should murder him?
We do not ask you to accuse yourself;
But I must say, that you have murder'd him;
And will say nothing else, till Justice draws
Upon our Side, at the loud Call of Blood,
To execute so foul a Murderer.

Bel.
Poor Biron! Is this thy Welcome Home!

Friend.
Rise, Sir, there is a Comfort in Revenge,
Which yet is left you.

[To C. Baldwin.
Car.
Take the Body hence.

[Biron carry'd off.
C. Bald.
What could provoke you?

Vil.
Nothing could provoke me
To a base Murder; which I find you think
Me guilty of. I know my Innocence:
My Servants too can witness that I drew
My Sword in his Defence, to rescue him.

Bel.
Let the Servants be call'd.

Fr.
Let's hear what they can say.

Car.
What they can say! Why, what should Servants say?
They're his Accomplices, his Instruments,
And will not charge themselves. If they could do
A Murder for his Service, they can lye,
Lye nimbly; and swear hard to bring him off.
You say, you drew your Sword in his Defence:
Who were his Enemies? Did he need Defence?
Had he wrong'd any one? Could he have Cause
To apprehend a Danger, but from you?
And yet you rescu'd him!—No, no, he came
Unseasonably, (that was all his Crime)
Unluckily to interrupt your Sport:
You were new marry'd—marry'd to his Wife;
And therefore you, and she, and all of you,
(For all of you I must believe concern'd)
Combin'd to murder him out of the Way.

Bell.
If it be so.—

Car.
It can be only so—

Fr.
Indeed it has a Face—

Car.
As black as Hell.

C. Bald.
The Law will do me Justice: Send for the Magistrate.

Car.
I'll go myself for him—

[Exit.
Vil.
These strong Presumptions, I must own, indeed,
Are violent against me; but I have
A Witness, and on this Side Heav'n too.
—Open that Door.
Door opens, and Pedro is brought forward by Villeroy's Servants.
Here's one can tell you all.

Ped.
All, all: Save me but from the Rack, I'll confess all.

Vil.
You and your Accomplices design'd
To murder Biron?—Speak.

Ped.
We did.

Vil.
Did you engage upon your private Wrongs,
Or were employ'd?

Ped.
He never did us Wrong.

Vil.
You were set on then.

Ped.
We were set on.

Vil.
What do you know of me?

Ped.
Nothing, nothing:
You sav'd his Life, and have discover'd me.

Vil.
He has acquitted me.
If you would be resolv'd of any thing,
He stands upon his Answer.

Bel.
Who set you on to act this horrid Deed?

C. Bald.
I'll know the Villain; give me quick his Name,
Or I will tear it from thy bleeding Heart—

Ped.
I will confess.

C. Bald.
Do then.

Ped.
It was my Master Carlos, your own Son.

C. Bald.
Oh monstrous! monstrous! most unnatural!

Bel.
Did he employ you to murder his own Brother?

Ped.
He did, and he was with us when 'twas done.

C. Bald.
If this be true, this horrid, horrid Tale,
It is but just upon me: Biron's Wrongs
Must be reveng'd; and I the Cause of all.

Fr.
What will you do with him?

C. Bald.
Take him a-part—
I know too much.

[Pedro goes in.
Vil.
I had forgot—Your wretched, dying Son,
Gave me this Letter for you.
[Gives it to Baldwin.
I dare deliver it: If it speaks of me,
I pray to have it read.

C. Bald.
You know the Hand.

Bel.
I know 'tis Biron's Hand.

C. Bald.
Pray read it.

Bellford
reads the Letter.

Sir,

I find I come only to lay my Death at your Door: I am
now going out of the World; but cannot forgive you, my nor
my Brother Carlos, for not hindering Wife Isabella,
from marrying with Villeroy; when you both knew, from so
many Letters, that I was alive.—

BIRON.

Vil.
How!—did you know it then?

C. Bald.
Amazement! all.
Enter Carlos, with Officers.
O Carlos! are you come? Your Brother here,
Here, in a wretched Letter, lays his Death
To you and me: Have you done any thing
To hasten his sad End?

Car.
Bless me, Sir, I do any thing? Who, I!

C. Bald.
He talks of Letters that were sent to us:
I never heard of any—Did you know
He was alive?

Car.
Alive! Heav'n knows, not I.

C. Bald.
Had you no News of him, from a Report,
Or Letter, never?

Car.
Never, never, I.

Bel.
That's strange indeed: I know he often writ
To lay before you the Condition
[To C. Baldwin.
Of his hard Slavery: And more I know,
That he had several Answers to his Letters:
He said, they came from you; you are his Brother.

Car.
Never from me.

Bel.
That will appear.
The Letters I believe are still about him;
For some of 'em I saw but Yesterday.

C. Bald.
What did those Answers say?

Bel.
I cannot speak to the Particulars;
But I remember well, the Sum of 'em
Was much the same, and all agreed,
That there was nothing to be hop'd from you;
That 'twas your barbarous Resolution
To let him perish there.—

C. Bald.
O Carlos! Carlos! hadst thou been a Brother—

Car.
This is a Plot upon me; I never knew
He was in Slavery, or was alive,
Or heard of him, before this fatal Hour.

Bel.
There, Sir, I must confront you:
He sent you a Letter, to my Knowledge, last Night;
And you sent him Word you wou'd come to him:—
I fear you came too soon.

C. Bald.
'Tis all too plain.—
Bring out that Wretch before him.

[Pedro produc'd.
Car.
Ha! Pedro there!—Then I am caught indeed.

Bel.
You start at Sight of him;
He has confest the bloody Deed.

Car.
Well then, he has confest,
And I must answer it.

Bel.
Is there no more?

Car.
Why!—what would you have more? I know the worst,
And I expect it.

C. Bald.
Why hast thou done all this?

Car.
Why, that which damns most Men, has ruin'd me,
The making of my Fortune. Biron stood
Between me and your Favour: While he liv'd,
I had not that; hardly was thought a Son,
And not at all a-kin to your Estate.
I could not bear a younger Brother's Lot,
To live depending upon Courtesy—
Had you provided for me like a Father,
I had been still a Brother.

C. Bald.
'Tis too true,
I never lov'd thee, as I should have done;
It was my Sin, and I am punish'd for't.
Oh! never may Distinction rise again
In Families: Let Parents be the same
To all their Children; common in their Care,
And in their Love of 'em—I am unhappy,
For loving one too well.

Vil.
You knew your Brother liv'd; why did you take
Such Pains to marry me to Isabella?

Car.
I had my Reasons for't—

Vil.
More than I thought you had.

Car.
But one was this—
I knew my Brother lov'd his Wife so well,
That if he ever should come Home again,
He cou'd not long out-live the Loss of her.

Bel.
If you rely'd on that, why did you kill him?

Car.
To make all sure. Now you are answer'd all.
Where must I go? I am tir'd of your Questions.

C. Bald.
I leave the Judge to tell thee what thou art;
A Father cannot find a Name for thee.
But Parricide is highest Treason sure
To sacred Nature's Law; and must be so,
So sentenc'd in thy Crimes. Take him away—
The violent Remedy is found at last,
That drives thee out, thou Poison of my Blood,
Infected long, and only foul in thee.

[Carlos led off.

Grant me, sweet Heav'n! thy Patience to go through
The Torment of my Cure—Here, here begins
The Operation—Alas! she's mad.

Enter Isabella distracted, held by her Women; her Hair dishevell'd; her little Son running in before, being afraid of her.
Vil.
My Isabella! Poor unhappy Wretch!
What can I say to her?

Isa.
Nothing, nothing; 'tis a babbling World—
I'll hear no more on't. When does the Court sit?
I'll not be bought—What! to sell innocent Blood!—
You look like one of the pale Judges here,
Minas, or Radamanth, or Æacus—
I have heard of you.
I have a Cause to try, an honest one;
Will you not hear it? Then I must appeal
To the bright Throne—Call down the heav'nly Powers
To witness how you use me.

Wom.
Help, help, we cannot hold her.

Vil.
You but enrage her more.

C. Bald.
Pray give her Way; she'll hurt no Body.

Isa.
What have you done with him? He was here but now;
I saw him here. Oh Biron, Biron! where,
Where have they hid thee from me? He is gone—
But here's a little flaming Cherubin—

Child.
O save me, save me!

[Running to Baldwin.
Isa.
The Mercury of Heav'n, with Silver Wings,
Impt for the Flight, to overtake his Ghost,
And bring him back again.

Child.
I fear she'll kill me.

C. Bald.
She will not hurt thee.

[She flings away.
Isa.
Will nothing do! I did not hope to find
Justice on Earth; 'tis not in Heav'n neither.
Biron has watch'd his Opportunity—
Softly; he steals it from the sleeping Gods,
And sends it thus—
[Stabs herself.
Now, now I laugh at you, defy you all,
You Tyrant-Murderers.

Vil.
Call, call for Help: O Heav'n! this was too much.

C. Bald.
O, thou most injur'd Innocence! Yet live,
Live but to witness for me to the World,
How much I do repent me of the Wrongs,
Th'unnatural Wrongs, which I have heap'd on thee,
And have pull'd down this Judgment on us all.

Vil.
O speak, speak but a Word of Comfort to me.

C. Bald.
If the most tender Father's Care and Love
Of thee, and thy poor Child, can make Amends—
O yet look up, and live.

Isa.
Where is that little Wretch?
[They raise her.
I die in Peace, to leave him to your Care.
I have a wretched Mother's Legacy,
A dying Kiss—pray let me give it him,
My Blessing; that, that's all I have to leave thee.
O may thy Father's Virtues live in thee,
And all his Wrongs be buried in my Grave.

[Dies.
Vil.
She's gone, and all my Joys of Life with her.
Where are your Officers of Justice now?
Seize, bind me, drag me to the bloody Bar.
Accuse, condemn me; let the Sentence reach
My hated Life—no matter how it comes,
I'll think it just, and thank you as it falls.
Self-Murder is deny'd me: Else, how soon
Could I be past the Pain of my Remembrance!
But I must live, grow grey with ling'ring Grief,
To die at last in telling this sad Tale.

C. Bald.
Poor wretched Orphan of most wretched Parents!
Scaping the Storm, thou'rt thrown upon a Rock,
To perish there; the very Rocks would melt,
Soften their Nature, sure, to softer thee:
I find it by myself. My flinty Heart,
That barren Rock, on which thy Father starv'd,
Opens its Springs of Nourishment to thee:
There's not a Vein but shall run Milk for thee.
O, had I pardon'd my poor Biron's Fault!
His first, his only Fault—this had not been.
To erring Youth there's some Compassion due;
But while with Rigour you their Crimes pursue,
What's their Misfortune, is a Crime in you.
Hence learn, offending Children to forgive:
Leave Punishment to Heav'n—'tis Heav'n's Prerogative.