University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Another room. Arden sleeping on a couch.
Enter Alicia with a dagger in her hand.
Alic.
See!—Jealousy o'erwatch'd is sunk to rest,
While fearful guilt knows no security,
But in repeated crimes. My weary eyes,
Each moment apprehensive of his vengeance,
Must seek for rest in vain 'till his are clos'd.
Then for our mutual peace, and Mosby's love—
[Approaching to stab him, starts.
He wakes—Defend me from his just revenge!
And yet he sees me not, nor moves a finger
To save his threaten'd life. Then whence that voice,
That pierc'd my ears, and cry'd, Alicia, hold!
Can mimic fancy cheat the outward sense,
And form such sounds? If these heart-racking thoughts
Precede the horrid act, what must ensue?
Worse plague I cannot fear from Arden's death,
But from his life—the death of him I love.
Perish the hated husband.—Wherefore hated!
Is he not all that my vain sex cou'd wish?
My eyes, while they survey his graceful form,
Condemn my heart, and wonder how it stray'd.
He sighs—he starts—he groans. His body sleeps,
But restless grief denies his mind repose.
Perhaps he dreams of me; perhaps he sees me.
Thus like a fury, broke from deepest hell,
Lust in my heart, and murder in my hand—

[Alicia drops the dagger. Arden starts up.
Ard.
Her dagger, Michael—seize it, and I'm safe.
How strong she is?—Oh!—what a fearful dream!
Before me still! speak, vision—art thou Alicia,
Or but the coinage of my troubled brain?

Alic.
O Arden—husband—lord—

Ard.
Art thou my wife?
Thou'rt substance—I am wrap'd in wonder—hence—
Hast lost all sense of fear, as well as shame,
That thou durst haunt me thus, asleep and waking,
Thou idol, and thou torment of my soul?

Alic.
My bleeding heart—

Ard.
Away, begone and leave me:
Lest, in the transports of unbounded rage,
I rush upon thee, and deface those charms,
That first enslav'd my soul; mangle that face
Where, spite of falshood, beauty triumphs still;
Mar that fair frame, and crush thee into atoms.
Avoid me, and be safe—Nay, now you drive me hence.
[Alicia kneels, he turns away.
Cruel and false as thou hast been to me,
I cannot see thee wring thy suppliant hands,
And weep, and kneel in vain.—
[Exit Arden.

Alic.
This, this is he
I came prepar'd to murder. Curst Alicia!
[Takes up the dagger.
In thy own bosom plunge the fatal steel,
Or his, who robb'd thee of thy fame and virtue—
It will not be—Fear holds my dastard hand:
Those chaster pow'rs that guard the nuptial bed
From foul pollution, and the hand from blood,
Have left their charge, and I am lost for ever.

[Exit.