University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—An Apartment in Maynard's House.
Enter Maynard, followed by a Servant, R. H.
May.
Bring me my hat and cloak; and get you ready
To go with me; first, call your mistress hither.
[Exit Servant.
Which way to turn I know not—what to do,
I know not—every way I'm at a loss.
What if I call upon Lord Moreton,—learn
If Hargrave has been there? but, no, that might
Cause more suspicion, which is all too rife
Already—yet I must go forth, and seek him.

Enter Mrs. Maynard, L. H.
Mrs M.
Oh, Maynard, he is come.

May.
Alone?

Mrs. M.
Alone.

May.
Where is he?

Mrs. May.
Entering at the door, I met him.
He pass'd in silence,—so, I follow'd him.
Halting upon the stairs, he sat him down
In a recess, as one quite lost in thought,
Or lost to memory: I took his hand,
And spoke, not once or twice, but many times,—
Still he return'd no answer.

May.
I'll go to him:
He must not be left thus.

Mrs. May.
Hark,—here he comes.
How wan and haggard! in my life I never
Saw him look thus, before.

May.
Peace—peace,—he speaks.

Enter Hargrave, L. H.
Har.
She loves me still; or she had never set
Her lord to buy my honour: oh! I thank her;
And shall repay her in due season.

May.
Hargrave!

Har.
You know a man who is call'd Henry Hargrave?

May.
I do,—and am his friend.

Har.
Be so no longer.
For he has liv'd to see his honour die,
Who would have died to know that it might live:
Yes, he has borne patiently the despite
Of fortune, that was nought—his inward wealth,—
The present here, and the reversion hence—
Gone, gone—

May.
What do you mean?

Har.
Do you not see?
Is it not written on my forehead, deep
As shame can brand it? Oh, it sears my brain!
But, no—the mark is gone: it has sunk deeper,—
Deeper,—'tis grain'd in, into me, and through me.
I am become one mass of infamy,
Whom Honesty must shun. Where is my sister?

Mrs. M.
I am here, dear brother.

Har.
Oh! could you both know
What I have heard; they were too wise for me—
Too close—too secret—why, they met but once—
By chance—

May.
Who?

Har.
But she must die. Is it not time
Already, to strip up the sleeve of murder,
To whet the knife, and to imbrue the hand?
She must die first, and he—yet I could weep—
I could weep, Maynard, but to think upon it.
Remember: such a woman as she was,—
No, 'tis a lie, as she was not—for never,
Had she been true, could she have fallen so low—
So from the stars to hell, as this,

Mrs. M.
Oh, Maynard,
He knows not what he says—he is distracted.
Shall I go fetch his children?—they, perhaps,
May touch his heart. If he could weep—

Har.
'Twere well.
But do not bring the wretches to me now,
Lest I should tear them piecemeal. Keep them from me—
They are too like their mother—but, no, no,—

May.
(Apart to his wife.)
Fetch them at once, and quickly.

[Exit Mrs. Maynard, L. H.
Har.
Where is she gone?

May.
She will return directly.

Har.
You shall know all, Maynard—you shall know all—
You must advise me what to do. I'm cool
As cowardice—I know you'll stand my friend.

May.
You know I will.

Har.
Yes, yes—it must be done
Coldly—no heat, lest it should look like vengeance,
Which is imperial justice newly bath'd,
And rob'd in purple.

Mrs. Hargrave rushes in L. H. followed by Mrs. Maynard.
Mrs. H.
Where is my husband?
Oh, save me! save me! [She clings to Hargrave.]


Har.
Who is this woman? take her
Away from me! Stand back! where is my sword?
[Hargrave is about to unsheath his sword—Maynard stays him.
I cannot kill her. Could I draw this weapon—
Which yet I cannot do—I could not kill her.
See, how she looks: 'tis virtue only dies—
Go, pray for death.

Mrs. H.
(To Mrs. Maynard.)
Oh, madam, speak to him.
Pity me, Hargrave—oh, take pity on me.
When you know all you will—I am sure you will.
First hear me, and then kill me—but you will not
When you have heard me.

Mrs. M.
Brother, if you ever
Lov'd her—and if you ever lov'd your sister—
Hear her: upon my life she's innocent.

May.
I would stake mine, she is so.

Har.
Why, say on.
If she be so—and yet that cannot be—
Proceed.

Mrs. H.
It is a tale of horror, Henry,
Yet I must tell it. When I left this morning—
Oh, it seems ages since!—I made all speed
To execute my mission. Ere I reach'd
My destination, suddenly two men
Rush'd from behind, and held me fast, and thrust me
Into a carriage, which drove off and stopt
I know not where—'twas at a house—and then
They dragg'd me to a room, in which they left me
Alone, I think for hours: at length a female—

Har.
A Frenchwoman?

Mrs. H.
She was.

Har.
Oh, Heaven! Proceed.

Mrs. H.
Enter'd, and brought refreshments—strove to soothe me—
Telling me that a gentleman, a friend,
Would wait upon me soon: he came at last.

Har.
Moreton?

Mrs. H.
The man you spoke of yesternight.

Har.
And this is true? It is! Oh, Maynard, Maynard!
What a weak gull was I? I saw it not.

Mrs. H.
You will not hate me when I tell you all?
Oh, madam, pity me! I cannot speak it—
And yet it must be told.

Har.
Go on—go on.

Mrs. H.
He came at last, and with respect address'd me—
But presently, grown bolder, he approach'd,
And would have clasp'd me. With a shriek I broke
Away from him, and fled: the door was lock'd—
Again he siez'd me! Oh, I cannot—

Har.
Ha!
I see him dead before me! Why do you tremble?
How I must kill him—hew him into pieces!
Come hither to me, wife: ere you say more
Embrace me—there. Maynard, my sister, stand
Apart from us—now—now, my poor wrong'd girl,
If there is something horrible to tell—
I know there is—whisper it—whisper it now
It will not make me mad.

Mrs. H.
'Tis horrible,
But 'tis not shame—upon that wasted brow
No shame, like shame, shall sit. I struggled with him,
With strength that madness lends—upon the table
There lay a knife—I—

Har.
Kill'd him—he's dead—say that—

Mrs. H.
Alas, I fear—

Har.
Ha, ha! that's well—that's well.
Why, this is justice—justice. How got you here?

Mrs. H.
I know not. Oh, support me!

Mrs. M.
She has fainted!

Har.
Maynard, what crown that might adorn a queen,
But would look dim and rayless on that brow.
Soft—she revives.

Mrs. H.
Where am I?

Har.
With friends, my sweet one.

May.
This is no place for you. You must away
Instantly. Who comes here? too late—too late!

Enter Beauchamp, with Officers.
Mrs. H.
(Clinging to Hargrave.)
Save me from him! I know him!

Har.
So do I,
And know him for a villain!

May.
Let me speak.
How is it, sirs, that at this time of night,
You forcibly make entrance to the house
And chamber of a peaceful citizen?

Beau.
Are you the master of this house?

May.
I am.

Beau.
Then, my good friend, not to offend the laws,
But to uphold the laws, are we come hither.
There is a woman here who has committed
A most foul murder. That is she—secure her!

[The Officers advance
Mrs. H.
They will not take me from you!

Har.
No, they shall not.
We will attend you. Gentlemen, stand off—
I shall conduct her hence. Nay, all is well—
Tremble not so. Maynard, you will assist me?
Thank you. Poor girl! 'tis a hard trial for you.
[To Beau.]
For you, sir, look for justice.

Beau.
I await it,
And am prepared to meet it. Come, lead on.

Har.
(To his Wife.)
Compose yourself—be not afraid—remember,
'Tis not the act, but cause which makes the act,
Or bad, or good. Come, that is well—so, so—

[Exeunt L. H.