University of Virginia Library

Scene 2.

Judge Winthrop's library. He is discovered sitting, Sir John Forrester standing by him: Mary and Anne in the front of the stage.
WINTHROP.
Will you draw nearer, madam? I must speak to you,
And I am weak and cannot well speak loud.
Be pleased to listen to me. You have borne my name
Near on six years; you—you—During that time,
Honour, affection, trust, and such indulgence
As my means offer'd, I have freely given you.
Let me be brief; how you have answer'd this,
And how repaid it, you well know. 'Tis past!
Wipe it from your conscience how you will, 'tis over!
You'll tell me you were young, and I was old,
Grey-headed, careful,—yet you married me!
You did it out of thankfulness; there 'tis.
You did—and I believed 'twas love. Well—
Well—well—it is for this, that I forbear
To cast you off, and give you to the scorn
Of the world to scourge you for your sin; for I
Sinn'd deeply first in folly, and therefore,
I'll bear without complaint the stab you've given me;
But here are two who do love me indeed,
And before them I must be justified.
Had you been true, Anne—had I held your heart—
The love of the wide world might have gone begging.
But you have filch'd my treasure from me, and now
I gather up and count such poor remains
As I can call my own. Before the world
I care not how I stand; but before these
I must be clear'd. I cannot spare their love,
Nor by them be accused of cruelty.
Speak, is this just? Do I deal rightly by you?

ANNE.
Oh! oh!

WINTHROP.
Pray do not weep! pray do not!
Come, this must end. Sister and friend, this woman—

MARY.
Oh, do not utter it!—

WINTHROP.
She's false, she's false;
And I, a wretch, cover'd with shame and misery,
Must drag my rest of years out as I may,
In bitter and disgracèd loneliness.

FORRESTER.
Oh, let this quickly end, 'twill kill us all!

WINTHROP.
True, true; I have no right to make you suffer.
I will not publish you, I will not shame you;
The world shall never know the thing you are.
Live yet at home, here, in my house, and call,
As heretofore, all things in it your own.
Only, this little let me beg: this room,
My wonted dwelling room, let me reserve;
And the yew-tree walk that stretches here before it,
For my daily use and exercise I'll keep.
Take all the rest; but here, where I shall live,
I do command you never to set foot.
Let me never, never, hear your voice again,
Nor ever, while I live, behold your face!
[He rises.
O friend! sometimes i' the time when I was happy,
I mourn'd to think my life was growing short;
But now, thank God I am not young! Come, come;
Give me your arm, and lead me out i' the air.
Yet, stay a little: those intemperate words,
That wicked curse, I uttered in my agony,
I do retract it, and I pray you pardon it!
I sinn'd to think it; God forgive you, Anne!
And grant you to repent. Farewell!

[Exeunt Judge Winthrop and Forrester.
MARY.
O sister!

ANNE.
What! will you touch me? will you look upon me?
Do you not fear to catch this pestilence,
With which I am alive from head to foot?

MARY.
Oh hush! hush! hush! lie still in my arms, my tears
Shall wash you of your fault; oh, would to Heaven
Your sorrow were all mine!—poor—poor—

ANNE.
How pale—
How white he looked! Dost thou not think that God
Looks as he look'd, when He sends souls to hell?

MARY.
Oh, what wild words are these!

ANNE.
Yes; then, you know,
The blue sky rises up further and further,
And vanishes away; and one goes falling
Down, down, down, into bottomless despair.

MARY.
What dreadful thoughts!

ANNE.
Hark! now I'm call'd—all round,
Eyes, staring eyes, all round—to see my shame—
A world of them! Look there! there sits my father
Yonder, that stern old man; and now, my husband
Stands up, and points me out for sentence. No!
No! no! I will not hear it, mercy! mercy!
Hark! my hair rouses, and my heart stands still.
Did you hear that—and how the devils shouted?
Great God! let me not be deliver'd up to him,
Oh, not to him—for ever and for ever!
To every fiend in hell, but not to him!
Look down, look down, in the red fire—he's there!
He grins and beckons me! he welcomes me!
Ha! ha! ha! sweetheart! so we meet in hell;
That's merry! well met, well met, sweetheart! look,
He holds his arms out, he has clutch'd me—ha!
Help! help! the fire leaps up like serpents' tongues
In eager flames all round me—I am burning!
Undo his hands! he hauls me into them,
He pulls, he drags me—horror! save me! save me!

MARY.
Listen to me, Anne; give me your hands—'tis I—
Mary, your friend, your sister; look, dear! look!

ANNE.
Oh, bless thee! thou'rt an angel, bless thee! bless thee!
Thou'rt come to take me out of torment; take me!
Quick! quick!

MARY.
Come, come.

ANNE.
Yes, I will go with thee.
Take hold of me, take care of me, good angel;
Spread thy white wings over my burning eyes;
So—all is dark—

MARY.
She's growing wondrous heavy;
Help! help! within there! ho!
[Enter Servants.
Take up your mistress,
And carry her to her chamber; gently, gently.

[Exeunt.