University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—The Park.
Enter Lord Athunree and Felton.
Ath.
Yes; I desired him to attend me here.
Behoves my door and he be strangers, lest
Our practices be traced. Want dogs him still,
And fits him for my purpose, by the threat
Of her pernicious tooth. Yet there's a weakness,
I would he had not. Much he loves his child;
Which shows his nature is not callous all;
Whence oftentimes I dread some start of ruth.
But finds he out fair Hero's close retreat,
The meagre knave shall fatten. Soft! he's here—
Well, have you traced her?

Enter Lewson.
Lew.
Yes; she is at Greenwich,
Where I and mine abide and famish.

Ath.
Fool!
Not to have guess'd as much, and know she hath
A villa there. Resides she by herself?

Lew.
She does.

Ath.
Then is she mine. Canst thou obtain
Secret admission?

Lew.
Easily, my lord;
Into her chamber-window, which looks out
Upon her garden.

Ath.
It must be done to-night.

Lew.
Most strangely is she changed.

Ath.
How?

Lew.
In her dress,
That's now the fashion of that formal sect,
Which at all worldly modes exception takes.

Ath.
Indeed! some plot 's on foot, and must concern
Her quarrel with Sir Valentine. To-night,
She gives me lodging. Stay—we must proceed
With such exactitude, the sun and dial
Shall vary soon as we! I'll write it down.
[Writes.
'Sdeath! I must change a word! I'll write it o'er
Again, that thou mayst have no scratch to hang
Excuse for failure on. There. Be observant
To the syllable. Away! Thy greatest hire,
For former service, I will double for thee,
Succeed'st thou but in this.

Lew.
Misgive not, sir;
I never yet have fail'd you. But, so please you,
Some present prompt supply. My children starve!
My wife, to find them half a meal a day,
Hath worn herself to skin and bone, and now
Can drag her limbs no more to forage for them.
Their pressing need relieve, and do with me
Whate'er thou wilt.

Ath.
There!

Lew.
All is noted here,
Behoveth me to heed?

Ath.
No jot forgot.
I may rely upon thee?

Lew.
As on one
Whose life is in thy hands.

[Goes out.
Ath.
The cards come round.

Fel.
I pray you, what intend you?

Ath.
He obtains
Admittance; I am on the watch, without;
She is alarm'd; I hear her cry for help;
And to her rescue naturally come.
I enter how I can, and once within,
Shape as I may the rest—assured of this,
She will accept protection; giving which,
I cast what colour on the case I please,
Insuring payment full!

Fel.
Thou art the prince
Of plotters!

Ath.
Thou art no less royal, there.
So hold we charge of one another's secrets,
Neither is like to break.

Enter Eustace and Walsingham
Eust.
Lord Athunree,
I here accuse thee of a murder! and
Will undertake to justify myself,
At the point of the sword. Hast thou the courage to
Abide the trial, whereunto I, now,
Demand of thee, thou fixest time and place,
For thy defence? Lo, I repeat the charge
And challenge too—Thou art a murderer!
And I demand thou pay the penalty,
Which if I prove defaulter in exacting,
I am content to leaguer my own life.
For the third time, I charge thee with the deed!—
Of felony more capital accuse thee
Than ever caitiff on the scaffold paid
The forfeit of! A murder,—cowardly!
Unparallel'd!—past human nature savage!
Wilt thou confront me?—Wilt thou? Canst thou? Darest thou?

Ath.
Doubt'st thou my answer prompt as thy demand?

Eust.
Give it, and leave not room for question! Where,
And when, shall we the mortal issue try?

Ath.
To-morrow!—Stay!—that gentleman thy friend?

Eust.
He is.

Ath.
He passes then as voucher for thee.
Yet I'll prevent miscarriage in the thing
Thy heart so earnestly is bent upon,
To its deep cost, I fear. There time and place
You see are written down.

[Writes on the back of the paper he had first written upon.
Eust.
For this I thank you;
That I may thoroughly be quits with you,
And all the payment on thy side be due.

Ath.
Farewell! Thou art young, but yet more rash than young!

Eust.
I am not rash, but by reflection act
As I do now, with hope my arm will prove
Stanch as my tongue. Thou art a murderer!

[Lord Athuntree and Felton go out.
Wal.
My fellow-student! Wonder hitherto
Hath tied my tongue! Has he a wrong with thee
To settle too?

Eust.
He has! Let's see what time and place
He hath appointed? Ha! what's here?
Oh, Providence is here! [Aside.]
A plot to ensnare,
In helpless ruin like to mine, the heart
In girlhood still was nearest to my own.
Then must I see thee, Hero! Pride must now
Give way to love! Occasion calls me hence,
More urgent yet than that which brought me hither.
Nor must we go together. Question, not;
But, at our place of practice, give me meeting
An hour at least ere noon.

Wal.
I shall not fail.

[Goes out.
Eust.
Oh, what a case is mine, to wear the brand
I never merited!—to be denounced
The child of guilt, that am the daughter free—
Except the primal all-referring lapse—
Of innocence! To be amerced of that,
The loss of which might make offence a thing
To be commiserated more than blamed—
For nothing!—So!—Inconstant to him!—So!—
A wanton!—So!—The framer of a lie!—
He loves me still! I pardon all for that!
For that his tongue shall rail at me again—
Pronounce me faithless—liar—wanton—aught!
Aught that I am not, for the blessed Am
That still assures him mine! Oh, I but play
A novel part! A solitary maid,
Herself to vindicate her injured name!
No father, brother, friend to plead the cause
Of her wrong'd honour, and her baffled love!
No champion left her but a woman's arm
Back'd by a woman's heart!—yet, trusting these,
And to just Heaven appealing, resolute
For life or death to meet the mortal strife!—
But where is Hero? Does thy friend forget thee,
And thou in peril? No! She flies to save thee.

[Goes out.