University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A Chamber in Ludgate.
Old Foster discovered with Mrs. Foster, sitting at a Table, the Keeper attending on R.
Keeper.

Come, come, be merry, sir; do as mourners
do at funerals, wear your hat in your eyes, and laugh in
your heart.

Fos.
I've no fat legacy left me,
To teach me how to play the hypocrite.

Keeper.

No? Why, look ye, sir; you shall want neither
meat, drink, nor anything this house affords; or if
anything abroad, here's money, send for what you will,
sir; nay, you shall beg no more at the grate neither.

Fos.
Ha! Is not this Ludgate?

Keeper.
Yes, sir.

Fos.
A jail, a prison, a tomb of men lock'd up,
Alive and buried?

Keeper.
'Tis what you please to call it.

Fos.
Oh, at what crevice then hath comfort crept
Like a bright sunbeam in? For all the doors
And windows are of iron bar'd to keep
Her out! [Rises and comes forward.]
I had a limb cut from my body
Dear as my life! I had a son and brother!
O, grief! They both would give me poison now,
Before their hollow palms ten drops should hold
Of nature's drink, cold water, but to save
My life one minute? Whence should pity come then?

Keeper.

No matter, sir; since you have good meat set
before you, never ask who sent it. If heaven provide for
you, and make the fowls of the air your caterers, feed you
fat and be thankful, and so I leave you.

[Exit Keeper, R.
Mrs. F.
The keeper is your friend, and pours true balm
Into your smarting wounds; be patient, husband.

Fos.
(L. C.)
Oh wife! [She rises.]
My looses are as numberless
As the sea sands that swallow'd them, and I,
By reck'ning them, my sad griefs multiply!
Enter Robert, R.
Ha! what art thou? Call for the keeper there!
And thrust him out of doors, or lock me up!

Mrs. F.
(C.)
It is your son, sir.

Fos.
Son! I know him not.
[Robert kneels, R. C.
I am no king, unless of scorn and woe!
Why dost thou kneel to me?

Rob.
Oh, my dear father!
I come not like a storm t'increase your wreck,
But to take all the sorrows from your back,
And lay them on mine own.

Fos.
Up, mischief, up?—
Away, and get thee gone!—My heart still hates thee!

Mrs. F.
Sweet husband!—

Fos.
Hence, thou villain!—Keeper!—Ho!

Rob.
Good sir, I'm gone. I will not stay to grieve you.
Oh, knew you for your woes what pains I feel,
You would not scorn me so. See, sir, to cool
Your burning heat of sorrow, I have brought
Four hundred pounds, and joy it is my lot
To lay it down with reverence at your feet.

[Producing a bag of money.
Fos.
Am I awake!

Rob.
No comfort in this world
To me is sweet, while thus you live in moan:
Take it, dear father, and farewell.

[Rises and going R.
Fos.
Stay!—Stay!— [He stops.]

I see mine error now. Oh! can there grow
A rose upon a bramble? In one tide
Poison and health together flow. Alas!
What have I done? Forgive me, my good child!
[Kneels.]
Look—on my knees I beg it. Not for joy
Thou bring'st this golden rubbish, which I spurn,
But that kind heav'n hath torn away the veil
That scarf'd mine eyes up!—Oh, my dear wrong'd son!

Rob.
Gladness o'erwhelms my heart. I cannot speak.
Rise, sir, pray rise!—

[He rises and they embrace.
Mrs. F.
Oh, happy, happy sight!

[Crosses to L.
Fos.
Yet, wife, I disinherited this boy!—

Rob.
Speak not of that, sir—let me have your blessing.

Fos.
For evermore, what blessing can
Repay such duty?

Enter Keeper, R.
Keeper.

Master Foster—the new sheriff, your brother,
is come to Ludgate, and I hasten to know your pleasure,
if you would see him.

Fos.
I'll see a fury first! clap-to the door!—

Rob.
Father, let's fly the thunder of his rage!

Enter Stephen Foster as Sheriff, attended, R.
Steph.
(R.)
Now, where's the keeper? Go, sir, take my officers,
And see your prisoners presently convey'd
From Ludgate unto Newgate, and the Computer.—
How now! What mak'st thou here, thou caitiff? ha!
[To Rob.
Comest thou to heal his wounds that seeks to cut
My throat?—and in despite relieve this dotard?—

Fos.
(L.)
Get from my sight!—comest thou in scarlet pride
To tread on thy poor brother in a jail?
Is there but one small fountain that doth run
Cold water to my comfort, and would'st thou
Stop that, thou cruel man?—

Steph.
(R. C.)
Aye, sir, I would!
When drops but fell on me, you poison'd them,
And thrust a son's name from thy cruel breast
For feeding of his uncle; now that uncle
Shall thrust him starving forth for feeding thee!
Where is my money, knave? [To Rob.]
Four hundred pounds
Received so lately by you from my debtors?

Rob.
(L. C.)
Gone, uncle.

Steph.
Gone!

Rob.
But not at dice, or drinking.

Steph.
This, thou shalt answer, villain?—

[Threatens to strike Robert, Foster throws himself between them.
Fos.
Would'st thou strike?
Wound me then, that will kill thee if I can!

Steph.
Thou rav'st!—

Fos.
How can I chuse?—Thou mak'st me mad!—
Art thou not sham'd to look on these white hairs?
Churl, beat not my poor boy!—let him not lose
Thy love for my sake—see—see—here's thy gold—
Tell it—none's stolen—

[Mrs. F. crosses in the back ground to R.
Steph.
Officer—do your duty.
Arrest that youth.

Rob.
Dear uncle!—

Mrs. F.
(R.)
Gentle brother!—

Steph.
I'm deaf.

Fos.
Fiend!—Tiger!—

Steph.
You will repent this language—
Keeper, away with them out of my sight,
And do, sir, as I charg'd you—

Keeper.
Sir, I will.

Fos.
Poor tyranny when lions weak lambs kill!

[Keeper and Officers force out Foster and Robert, followed by Mrs. Foster, R.
Steph.
(C.)
I'm glad they're gone. Mine eyes with rain swell'd high.
The keeper knows my mind.
Enter Mrs. Stephen Foster, R.
Well, wife, I've paid
My brother's debts, and when he's out of door,
To march to Newgate, he shall be set free.

Mrs. S.
But for your cousin, sir.

Steph.
Fear not for him.
The boy shall not be injured for more wealth
Than London gates lock safe up every night.

Mrs. S.
But why remove the prisoners from Ludgate?

Steph.
To take the prison down, and build it new,
With leads to walk on, chambers large and fair;
For when myself lay here, the noxious air
Choked up my spirits. None but captives, wife,
Can know what captives feel.

Mrs. S.
'Tis a good deed;
And in it I'll walk, hand in hand, with you.
Close to the gate there stands a tenement
That was my father's; take it down, and add
So much ground to the work.

Steph.
'Tis fairly given,
Thy soul on prisoners' pray'rs shall mount to Heav'n.
But I must haste
To join the Mayor and citizens. Come, wife—
I count this day the happiest of my life.

[Exeunt.