University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

An Apartment in a Castle.
Cecil sitting on a Chair guarded—his Sons standing by him, one on each side.
Geo.
Pardon, my loved and ever honour'd father,
This harsh entreatment—other course was not
To bar thee from a deed most impious.

Cecil.
Thou puny passive surcle, darest thou say
I had not right and ample cause to slay her?

Geo.
Haply, my lord, they both meant honourably,
And ween'd their marriage might unite our houses,
Whose rivalry has caused such grievous woes.

Cecil.
Such word to me again, thou shallow dunce,
And I'll dislodge thy being—Ay, though prison'd,
The man who speaks of union with the Moore
To me, I'll crush him—with my foot I'll crush him.
And for prevention I will have her life;
I say I'll have my daughter's life.

Geo.
Rather we'll hold thee
Immured or bound for ever—Could you see
Our darling Caroline bathed in her blood
By her own father's hand, and her dim eye
Turn'd to the heaven to seek forgiveness there?
Even for her murderer to ask forgiveness?
Ah! could you bear that sight? Or could the afterthought
By man be suffer'd?

Cecil.
Thank you, Sir Priest,
For that divine and beautiful remark.
Damn'd chattering sycophant!—thank you, sir—
I'm much beholden to you—pray go on—
Bestow thy sage advice on me, and say
What's due to Caroline?

Geo.
Turn her from hence a beggar—
Disown her—suffer none to shelter her.
Let her go seek her Moore, since she preferr'd him
To him who gave her life and loved her so.
If he acknowledge her as his true spouse,
And lady of his princely fair domains,
Why, he deserves her—and, I needs must say,
Claims our respect—But should he shun, or flout,
Or finally reject her, then he shows
In his true colours to the world—a wretch!
And all the power of England shall not shroud him.

Cecil.
By heaven and earth, boy, thou say'st notably,
Moth, pedant as thou art. Straight go and see
This executed with the utmost rigour.
And that old hag, her nurse and tutoress—
O lash me her!—I thirst to see the crone
Scourged to a gangrene—and her very tongue—
Enter Esther suddenly.
In hell's name, where goest thou?

Est.
Ah! Is he confined?

Cecil.
No, he's not confined—
He's at thy ears—thy throat, old night-mare!
Avaunt, thou portrait of pollution!

Est.
Alas! my lord,
Till all was done, I nothing knew of this.

Cecil.
Thou did'st, thou did'st, thou did'st, thou knew'st it all,
Plann'd, urged the encounter, and enjoy'd the fall
Of innocence, as thy great master did
When mask'd in Eden—All of it was thine,
The scheme and the fulfilment!—O thou brand!
Thou hemlock hag! I'll have thee sear'd and toasted
To a pure mummy, and preserved in oil,
That not one atom of thy guilty frame
Be lacking at the doom—O for this deed,
Thou yet shall steep in the blue depth of hell,
The sport of scavengers!—Let me come at her.
I ask but of the witch one twist.
(They hold him and make signs to her—She runs off—They lead him off at the opposite side— saying, as he retires,)
She knew it all—she knew it all, &c.

(Growling.)
(Exeunt.)